(no subject)
Title: After the End
Author: starrycastiel
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 200
Summary: If Castiel were to Fall :c
The bed is pushed against the window because there isn't any space in the tiny motel room, and they are pressed together and forced into sleep and contained. The windows are open to let the air in and the curtains rustle with the breeze.
Cas is laid boneless in the sheets and Dean watches him cringe while he dreams in strange places, burning with light and edged with virtue, not always the same. Dean sees the way Cas' back is painted with Venetian shadows, lashes like feathers and Dean spreads his fingers like wings against the scars over shoulder blades- cream and white lacing over and under- and Dean imagines the way a dove would coo, the heartbeat of their wings.
Dean kisses the skin at the nape of Cas' neck, and holds his breath silent, steady, pressing the palm of a hand to stop the puling sounds that want to come out. Still, shh. Still.
Still Cas slips out from under his dreams, murmurs something unintelligible, something soothing like hazy rain, soft and fleeting as kisses. Dean nuzzles into Cas and tries not to think of this new-made body, all the soft places that are now open to all the hurts and grievances of humanity.
Author: starrycastiel
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 200
Summary: If Castiel were to Fall :c
The bed is pushed against the window because there isn't any space in the tiny motel room, and they are pressed together and forced into sleep and contained. The windows are open to let the air in and the curtains rustle with the breeze.
Cas is laid boneless in the sheets and Dean watches him cringe while he dreams in strange places, burning with light and edged with virtue, not always the same. Dean sees the way Cas' back is painted with Venetian shadows, lashes like feathers and Dean spreads his fingers like wings against the scars over shoulder blades- cream and white lacing over and under- and Dean imagines the way a dove would coo, the heartbeat of their wings.
Dean kisses the skin at the nape of Cas' neck, and holds his breath silent, steady, pressing the palm of a hand to stop the puling sounds that want to come out. Still, shh. Still.
Still Cas slips out from under his dreams, murmurs something unintelligible, something soothing like hazy rain, soft and fleeting as kisses. Dean nuzzles into Cas and tries not to think of this new-made body, all the soft places that are now open to all the hurts and grievances of humanity.