(no subject)
Title: The Epistemology of Yes
Author: singthestars
Rating: M
Pairing: Dean/Castiel/Jimmy
Warnings: Ummm, strange writing style? And does slash even count as a warning anymore? canon character death. Highlight for warning.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 707
Summary:
Yes. Such a simple word. Three random letters combined to form an affirmative.
Yes.
Yes was bright light and burning, being consumed with a force that was unimaginable.
Holy.
Yes.
Yes was a broken promise and a broken family, a lost little girl and a desperate mother left in the bright trail of destruction in his wake. It served to help bring about the end of the world, the same world that held that broken family. Yes.
It was the unknown passage of time before being woken up and asked a question. Should he help Dean? Should he become the very epitome of wrongness to be achieved by an angel.
Rebel.
Yes.
Then nothing. Then waking up surrounded my a fake wife and daughter going through the motions of a memory It was a waking nightmare and reminder of those left being,
Then a voice, “Do you wish to go back?”
Yes.
It was a strange half submission, not at all like before. Actually being there, staring out the window as the landscape rolled past the Impala and soothing his impending claustrophobia. Our eyes are drawn to the line of Dean’s neck as he tilts back his head and laughs and we decide that we like the way it makes the colors of his soul swirl and dance.
…………………………..
It is an awkward conversation, one side amused and the other nervous. It isn’t his body, it isn’t his call but his grace shines just as brightly as the soul colors when they are together and hey, it’s the end of the world. Why wouldn’t the answer be yes?
It’s the soft slide of skin against skin and lips on their shoulder. Dean touches them reverently and whispers, “I got you, Cas.”
Lips trail down our chest, pausing every now and then to taste and tease. Our hands grip the blankets, both unsure of what to do with them as Dean tongues the dip of our hipbone. When his mouth closes around us, it feels like revelation and we cant help the moan that escapes our mouth. We can feel it building as he slips one slicked finer into use, moving slowly. Too slowly.
We arch into him, unsure of what we want and his chuckle sends electric shocks through our body.
One finger becomes two becomes three. And then he’s gone, suddenly pressing his body against ours and tasting our lips and we can taste ourselves. More. We need more as we whimper into his mouth.
“Do you want this, Cas?”
Breathily, we answer, “Yes.”
Then it’s there. That feeling of fullness and completion as Dean presses in slowly, muttering blasphemies against our neck. The rhythm is slow and unhurried despite our desperate circumstances and the electricity is building in our veins.
Like this, he can almost forget that he is falling, with only one voice of a vessel in his head for company and when they come, his grace shines nearly as bright as it did before. Shuddering, Dean follows and kisses him, whispering, “Yes.”
…………………………
It is being told that there might not be another way but there is still a choice. He wouldn’t be able to do it. He would have to dive as far into the vessel as he could to keep from being torn apart, be even then, it was a slip chance.
He would not be able to carve the sigils on our chest.
He would not be able to enforce the banishment.
And I, most likely, would die.
I knew this before I was even told, by the expected refusal I could see take shape in his thoughts. I think about the lost girl and the desperate mother left behind in Illinois and about Dean and Sam. I remember the hollow life that would be waiting for me on the other side.
“We will change that,” he says. “After we win.”
And it’s that blinding faith, not in some God or his angels, but in one simple man that makes up my mind.
Will I destroy myself so that Sam and Dean can keep Michael from taking a vessel and killing millions of people?
Will I destroy myself, despite the possibility of failure?
When has the answer never been, “Yes.”
Author: singthestars
Rating: M
Pairing: Dean/Castiel/Jimmy
Warnings: Ummm, strange writing style? And does slash even count as a warning anymore? canon character death. Highlight for warning.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 707
Summary:
Yes. Such a simple word. Three random letters combined to form an affirmative.
Yes.
Yes was bright light and burning, being consumed with a force that was unimaginable.
Holy.
Yes.
Yes was a broken promise and a broken family, a lost little girl and a desperate mother left in the bright trail of destruction in his wake. It served to help bring about the end of the world, the same world that held that broken family. Yes.
It was the unknown passage of time before being woken up and asked a question. Should he help Dean? Should he become the very epitome of wrongness to be achieved by an angel.
Rebel.
Yes.
Then nothing. Then waking up surrounded my a fake wife and daughter going through the motions of a memory It was a waking nightmare and reminder of those left being,
Then a voice, “Do you wish to go back?”
Yes.
It was a strange half submission, not at all like before. Actually being there, staring out the window as the landscape rolled past the Impala and soothing his impending claustrophobia. Our eyes are drawn to the line of Dean’s neck as he tilts back his head and laughs and we decide that we like the way it makes the colors of his soul swirl and dance.
…………………………..
It is an awkward conversation, one side amused and the other nervous. It isn’t his body, it isn’t his call but his grace shines just as brightly as the soul colors when they are together and hey, it’s the end of the world. Why wouldn’t the answer be yes?
It’s the soft slide of skin against skin and lips on their shoulder. Dean touches them reverently and whispers, “I got you, Cas.”
Lips trail down our chest, pausing every now and then to taste and tease. Our hands grip the blankets, both unsure of what to do with them as Dean tongues the dip of our hipbone. When his mouth closes around us, it feels like revelation and we cant help the moan that escapes our mouth. We can feel it building as he slips one slicked finer into use, moving slowly. Too slowly.
We arch into him, unsure of what we want and his chuckle sends electric shocks through our body.
One finger becomes two becomes three. And then he’s gone, suddenly pressing his body against ours and tasting our lips and we can taste ourselves. More. We need more as we whimper into his mouth.
“Do you want this, Cas?”
Breathily, we answer, “Yes.”
Then it’s there. That feeling of fullness and completion as Dean presses in slowly, muttering blasphemies against our neck. The rhythm is slow and unhurried despite our desperate circumstances and the electricity is building in our veins.
Like this, he can almost forget that he is falling, with only one voice of a vessel in his head for company and when they come, his grace shines nearly as bright as it did before. Shuddering, Dean follows and kisses him, whispering, “Yes.”
…………………………
It is being told that there might not be another way but there is still a choice. He wouldn’t be able to do it. He would have to dive as far into the vessel as he could to keep from being torn apart, be even then, it was a slip chance.
He would not be able to carve the sigils on our chest.
He would not be able to enforce the banishment.
And I, most likely, would die.
I knew this before I was even told, by the expected refusal I could see take shape in his thoughts. I think about the lost girl and the desperate mother left behind in Illinois and about Dean and Sam. I remember the hollow life that would be waiting for me on the other side.
“We will change that,” he says. “After we win.”
And it’s that blinding faith, not in some God or his angels, but in one simple man that makes up my mind.
Will I destroy myself so that Sam and Dean can keep Michael from taking a vessel and killing millions of people?
Will I destroy myself, despite the possibility of failure?
When has the answer never been, “Yes.”