Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, amnesia
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Theme: Amnesia
All parts here.
There were two weeks when everything was perfect.
Well, not everything. Castiel was literal-minded and honest, to a fault, and he had to admit that nothing was perfect, not even him and Dean. For example -- well. It didn't matter, so very much.
What mattered was that Dean had forgotten. Not Sam, not the hunting. Not even Castiel. But somehow, for some reason, he'd forgotten what they'd had, even though they'd practically lived in each other's skin for two weeks, even though everything had been as near to perfection as it could be. And Castiel had moved to kiss him and all of a sudden, as if a switch had been flipped, Dean gave him a weird look and pushed him away, and it felt for a moment --
But that didn't matter, either.
Castiel felt very much as if he had one moment to put things right -- just one -- and he had to take it, and use it, and do it right.
It didn't feel right, it felt like all kinds of wrong, with Dean looking at him startled, uncomprehending, but Castiel had to do it, anyway. He took Dean's face in both hands, kissed him hard, deep, feeding memory to him with breath. "Please," he whispered, and his voice trembled and broke like it never had before.
Dean's mouth opened, but he drew back, shook his head, and Castiel felt like all the light inside him was going to flare up and die out and leave him cold. Dean grabbed for him, though, grabbed his wrist.
"Didn't I teach you to kiss better than that?" he asked, mouth tilting into a smirk, and the light inside Castiel is never going to die out, never, not with Dean looking at him like that. Dean's fingers tightened around his wrist, tugged him in, caught, almost helpless. "Sorry," he said, gruff, and Castiel closed his eyes and turned, turned into the waiting kiss and held on tight.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Theme: Amnesia
All parts here.
There were two weeks when everything was perfect.
Well, not everything. Castiel was literal-minded and honest, to a fault, and he had to admit that nothing was perfect, not even him and Dean. For example -- well. It didn't matter, so very much.
What mattered was that Dean had forgotten. Not Sam, not the hunting. Not even Castiel. But somehow, for some reason, he'd forgotten what they'd had, even though they'd practically lived in each other's skin for two weeks, even though everything had been as near to perfection as it could be. And Castiel had moved to kiss him and all of a sudden, as if a switch had been flipped, Dean gave him a weird look and pushed him away, and it felt for a moment --
But that didn't matter, either.
Castiel felt very much as if he had one moment to put things right -- just one -- and he had to take it, and use it, and do it right.
It didn't feel right, it felt like all kinds of wrong, with Dean looking at him startled, uncomprehending, but Castiel had to do it, anyway. He took Dean's face in both hands, kissed him hard, deep, feeding memory to him with breath. "Please," he whispered, and his voice trembled and broke like it never had before.
Dean's mouth opened, but he drew back, shook his head, and Castiel felt like all the light inside him was going to flare up and die out and leave him cold. Dean grabbed for him, though, grabbed his wrist.
"Didn't I teach you to kiss better than that?" he asked, mouth tilting into a smirk, and the light inside Castiel is never going to die out, never, not with Dean looking at him like that. Dean's fingers tightened around his wrist, tugged him in, caught, almost helpless. "Sorry," he said, gruff, and Castiel closed his eyes and turned, turned into the waiting kiss and held on tight.