Fic: Want, Make, Have (Dean/Castiel)
Aug. 29th, 2009 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneDay 3! Or is it more exciting if I do it backwards? 13 days to go!
Previous ficlets here.
Title: Want, Make, Have
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 4x22
Length: ~2,500 words
Summary: Castiel needs a body. Dean needs to make a choice.
Want, Make, Have
Dean was putting some serious effort into wearing down Bobby's floorboards, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, one end to the other. He'd just finished walking south to north, and when he turned to head south again, he found Anna standing in his path. She offered him a crooked smile. She looked nervous.
“Dean…”
“What?” He'd snapped instantly to attention, all that nervous energy already ready to be channeled. “What's wrong? I thought your friend said he could fix it!”
“He can,” she said, raising her hands in a placating manner. But they dropped again, almost right away, and it was clear she was trying not to wring them. “But before he does…Cas wanted me to talk to you.”
She wasn't nervous, Dean realized. Well, she was, but it was more than that: she was embarrassed. Dean's stomach clenched, and then he was having a damn Star Wars moment-he had a bad fucking feeling about this.
“Why don't I just go downstairs right now and talk to him myself?” he said, shooting for indifference.
“He asked me to talk to you,” Anna said. She fixed him with a long look. “He wants you to pick.”
Dean's heart and lungs joined the ranks of internal organs trying to make themselves small and inconspicuous. “Pick?” he said stupidly.
“My friend's a top-notch builder, but he doesn't really have an eye for design. He can make a body, but he needs a template.” Another weighty look that made it hard for Dean not to flinch away. “I explained all this.”
Dean had been paying attention the first time. He swallowed roughly. “Tell Cas I think he should pick for himself.”
But Anna shook her head like she was prepared for this response. “He says he wants whatever you want.”
“Dammit, no-” But before he could even get going, she had vanished. Angels were dirty cheats when it came to finishing arguments.
“Fine,” Dean told the empty room. If Mohammad was too much of a coward to go to the mountain…
He stomped downstairs. There was a single figure sitting on the cot in the panic room. He looked up when Dean entered.
“He doesn't want to talk to you,” Jimmy said. “He says he doesn't want to influence you.”
Dean glowered, which Jimmy rolled his eyes and ignored. “Is there any way I can influence you to make up your mind a little faster? I mean, I thought sharing a body with an angel was weird…if that was like riding the tail of a comet, this is like being a star that's about to go supernova.” It was true that Jimmy's knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the cot; Dean tried not to look too closely. “I'm serious, Dean, neither of us can last much longer. Two people were not meant to inhabit the same…what are you doing?”
Dean realized he'd been pushing closer and closer into the other man's space, trying to find some hint of Castiel in Jimmy's eyes. He straightened up guiltily. “So, uh,” he asked. “What do you think?”
Jimmy looked like a man whose patience had been pushed to the brink-and then given a kick past it. “I don't care! I just want him out of me! Okay? Sorry, I just…” He took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair, then lowered it to his knee with an unusual degree of reverence, like despite everything, he was grateful just to be able to perform such an ordinary action. “Look, he trusts you,” he said, eying Dean steadily. “I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine.”
“Right. Sure.” Forcing himself not to try one last time to find Cas within those blue depths, Dean squared his shoulders and went back upstairs.
The house was too quiet. Bobby had gotten an urgent call from a hunter he knew the next state over; he and Sam had gone to help while Dean stayed to deal with the most recent bit of fallout from Heaven v. Hell. If they were here…well, Dean still wouldn't want to talk to them. Not about this.
Which left Chuck. He was probably up in his room, either drinking, sleeping, writing, or looking at porn. Dean could ask Chuck. Not that Dean thought the prophet ought to be making a second career as an advice columnist-Dean wouldn't take his advice on which way to piss in a windstorm. But Anna wasn't the only one who could cheat. If Chuck already knew what Dean decided, then Dean wouldn't have to make up his mind.
“Nope,” Chuck said, opening the door before Dean could finish raising his hand to knock. “Sorry.”
“You don't know?” Dean asked, incredulous.
Chuck smiled awkwardly. “Let's just say that I do know that I don't tell you.”
“So you know,” said Dean, taking a deliberate step into Chuck's personal space.
“Heh. Um.” Chuck pulled his bathrobe more tightly around his body and maneuvered so that a chair was between them. “Look, trust me, you don't want me to tell you. You want to figure this out on your own.”
“I'll figure it out a lot faster if you just spill it!”
Chuck opened his mouth like he was going to protest; then suddenly his shoulders sagged. He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You pick blonde Angelina Jolie. Happy?”
“Blonde-?” Dean couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept. Not the concept of Angelina Jolie-he could wrap more than just his mind around that-but the idea of Cas, of Cas in- He realized he was frowning. “Really?”
Chuck thrust his finger out triumphantly. “No! See? It can't come from me. You need to just-” He made a shooing motion. “Just go. Think it through.”
Chuck had apparently found his reserve of courage and was now none-too-subtly herding Dean toward the door. “And don't worry,” he said as Dean stepped uncertainly back out into the hall. “Whatever you choose, we're not going to judge you.”
“Hey! What's that supposed to-” The door slammed resolutely shut.
“You people all suck,” Dean told the empty hallway.
At a loss for what to do, Dean went back downstairs and sat in Bobby's chair by the fireplace. He would have to tell Cas no, he thought. This was too much responsibility. The future of life on Earth resting on his shoulders-that he could just about almost take in its nonspecific, nebulous way. But this-with this he would see the results of his decision right in front of him, almost right away. And if he went a certain direction, a blonde Angelina Jolie-type direction, he knew it inevitably wouldn't be just a matter of seeing, but of touching, of- The images rushed his brain, and with them, the guilty, greedy thought: he could have everything he had ever wanted. Cas had given himself over to Dean, in soul and now in body, and damn it all, but did Dean ever wish he were either a much stronger or a much weaker person. Just a little more one way or the other, and maybe he'd be able to live with whatever decision he made.
And more importantly: maybe Cas would.
Dean picked at the flaking varnish on Bobby's desk. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it honestly didn't matter to him one way or the other: angels weren't like humans, after all. And Castiel had seemed perfectly willing to jump into poor little Claire when the opportunity presented itself. Unless that had all been a set-up to defeat the demons and bring Jimmy back around. Castiel could be a sneaky, heartless bastard of an angel when he wanted to be.
Past tense on the angel bit now, of course. Christ.
But Cas was still sneaky-Dean wouldn't like him half so much if he weren't. Could it be that all of this was a set-up, too? Because if this was actually Cas' way of asking Dean if he wanted to take their…whatever to the next level, then it was the most devious, backhanded, passive-aggressive declaration of devotion ever. In which case, maybe Castiel deserved whatever masturbatory fantasy of a body he got.
But then again, Dean thought, his restless fingers momentarily still, if Cas was being sincere-if he was leaving it up to Dean, if he was really and truly asking…
Dean's hand drifted up until it was hovering just below his throat. It stayed there, worrying the leather cord and the metal chain that hung there, unconsciously rubbing them together.
“You know what it means that he gave you that, don't you?”
It said a lot about the past year that Dean no longer jumped when angels popped into existence in front of him. “Spare me the lecture, all right? You're not helping.”
Anna tilted her head and gave him a considering look. “I think you're making this more complicated than it has to be.”
He glared up at her. “It's not like I'm choosing between the fries and the onion rings! This is a pretty big fucking decision!”
She shook her head. “No, it isn't. It's saying what you want.” She chewed her lip a little. “You're not actually all that good at wanting things for yourself, are you, Dean?”
He half-rose from the chair, a million sharp retorts ready on his tongue, but at the last second, the energy left him. He sank back, the vial containing Castiel's grace tangling and twisting with Sam's pendant, the pair of them bumping against Dean's heart.
“I just want Cas,” he snapped, “to be happy.”
“And he wants you to be happy,” Anna replied-when she wanted she could do the other angels' condescending act perfectly. “I'm not seeing the big problem here.”
“Right.” The sigh Dean expelled was almost a growl. “'Cause when all this went down-when Cas asked you to make me choose, what he was really saying was, 'So, tell Dean that I have abandoned my entire existence as I knew it for the sole purpose of becoming his girlfriend; please have him select a body for me with an especially nice rack.'”
“Is that what you want?” Anna asked, not nearly scornfully enough for Dean's taste. “For Cas to be your girlfriend?”
“No! No, I-” He dropped his head into his hands. “I…I want him,” he said quietly, “but, well-he's a he, isn't he, and I don't-I don't think I can want…that. But the idea of putting him in some, some-”
“Creepy blowup doll body?” Anna supplied.
“Yes,” hissed Dean. “It's-I wouldn't be able to do that, either.” He glanced at her sidelong, far too aware of the flush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. “I should just forget the whole thing and pick something generic and inconspicuous and male. Right?”
“Angels don't have the same rigid ideas about sex and gender that humans do, you know. For most of us, a body is just a body.” Anna seemed to be dangling this piece of information in front of him like a ripe apple.
It didn't for a moment tempt him. And that's how Dean knew.
“Yeah, but Cas isn't most of you, is he?”
Anna smiled. “Tell me what you want, Dean.”
Dean folded metal and glass into his fist and told her what he needed.
Dean waited a few minutes after they were done, to give Cas a chance to see how he felt about it all. When he finally went downstairs, the first thing he saw was Jimmy glaring at him.
“Do you have no imagination at all? Or were you just trying to pick the creepiest thing possible?”
“Buddy,” Dean said, patting Jimmy on a shoulder that was all his, “you have no imagination if you think this is the creepiest thing I could have come up with.”
Jimmy made a face as his brain clearly supplied him with several alternate possibilities. But Dean was already looking past him.
Cas was sitting on the cot. He wasn't glaring, but he wasn't quite smiling, either. The emotion in his eyes-those achingly familiar eyes-was hesitance mixed with hope, and all at once Dean realized that Anna had been right-it was the simplest thing in the world.
He knelt before he had time to think, to talk himself out of it. It was an action Cas could read perfectly clearly; he leaned forward, and they came together with a gentleness that in other circumstances Dean would have found shocking and ridiculous. But Dean was learning to throw such preconceived notions out the window.
He kissed Cas softly, feeling out the shape of his lips, the scrape of his stubble, the taste of him. Relief washed through him, and with it a giddy sort of happiness: he was an idiot. Of course he could do this, want this-he just had to learn to let himself.
He pulled back, wanting again to look Cas in the eye. Cas smiled at him-Dean was close enough to feel him practically vibrating with silent pleasure-and then there was nothing to do but to slide back in and kiss him again. And again. And again.
“Ready to go home?” he heard Anna ask, distantly.
“Yes, please!” said Jimmy, sounding pained. In a flutter of wings, they were gone.
“We owe him a more sincere display of gratitude,” Cas murmured, pulling back slightly. Dean felt a pleasurable shudder at the sound of his voice: it still had a roughness to it, though it lacked the same preternatural force.
“We can pay the whole Novak clan a visit,” Dean said. “Bring them a pie. You can tell anyone that stops by that you're Jimmy's cousin, his identical cousin.”
Cas' answering laugh suggested that he had no idea what Dean was talking about, but that he was happy to be there, having no idea what Dean was talking about.
“You are, right?” Dean asked, tracking the movement of Cas' pupils with his own, getting lost there-all-too-easily, still. “You're happy?” Dean swallowed. “Like this?”
Castiel's mouth twitched, and then it did something wholly new, something Dean had never seen before. It was like seeing the sun come up after a long night of fighting something nasty, Cas' smile.
“I believe that is the word for this emotion, yes.”
He hadn't lost his deadpan delivery, either-in fact, it had really come into its own. Dean's eyes narrowed. “You're a sly bastard, you know that?”
Castiel lifted a hand: reverently, like it was a miraculous object. Holding Dean's gaze, he picked up Dean's palm in his and pressed them both to Dean's chest, capturing the vial containing his grace between two layers of intertwined fingers. “I'm yours,” he said, “as you want me.”
Dean's body tensed. Then he was surging up, pushing forward until he was straddling Cas' lap, until he was bearing him backward onto the cot. Maybe Jimmy was right after all, he thought, as he buried his fingers in Cas' hair, as he kissed the new skin of Cas' throat. Maybe he did lack imagination. All he could conceive of wanting was right in front of him.
NOTES:
1. The original prompt for this was something about Dean wearing Castiel's grace around his neck. That's one of my favorite images ever, but obviously the focus of this fic became something else.
Previous ficlets here.
Title: Want, Make, Have
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 4x22
Length: ~2,500 words
Summary: Castiel needs a body. Dean needs to make a choice.
Want, Make, Have
Dean was putting some serious effort into wearing down Bobby's floorboards, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, one end to the other. He'd just finished walking south to north, and when he turned to head south again, he found Anna standing in his path. She offered him a crooked smile. She looked nervous.
“Dean…”
“What?” He'd snapped instantly to attention, all that nervous energy already ready to be channeled. “What's wrong? I thought your friend said he could fix it!”
“He can,” she said, raising her hands in a placating manner. But they dropped again, almost right away, and it was clear she was trying not to wring them. “But before he does…Cas wanted me to talk to you.”
She wasn't nervous, Dean realized. Well, she was, but it was more than that: she was embarrassed. Dean's stomach clenched, and then he was having a damn Star Wars moment-he had a bad fucking feeling about this.
“Why don't I just go downstairs right now and talk to him myself?” he said, shooting for indifference.
“He asked me to talk to you,” Anna said. She fixed him with a long look. “He wants you to pick.”
Dean's heart and lungs joined the ranks of internal organs trying to make themselves small and inconspicuous. “Pick?” he said stupidly.
“My friend's a top-notch builder, but he doesn't really have an eye for design. He can make a body, but he needs a template.” Another weighty look that made it hard for Dean not to flinch away. “I explained all this.”
Dean had been paying attention the first time. He swallowed roughly. “Tell Cas I think he should pick for himself.”
But Anna shook her head like she was prepared for this response. “He says he wants whatever you want.”
“Dammit, no-” But before he could even get going, she had vanished. Angels were dirty cheats when it came to finishing arguments.
“Fine,” Dean told the empty room. If Mohammad was too much of a coward to go to the mountain…
He stomped downstairs. There was a single figure sitting on the cot in the panic room. He looked up when Dean entered.
“He doesn't want to talk to you,” Jimmy said. “He says he doesn't want to influence you.”
Dean glowered, which Jimmy rolled his eyes and ignored. “Is there any way I can influence you to make up your mind a little faster? I mean, I thought sharing a body with an angel was weird…if that was like riding the tail of a comet, this is like being a star that's about to go supernova.” It was true that Jimmy's knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the cot; Dean tried not to look too closely. “I'm serious, Dean, neither of us can last much longer. Two people were not meant to inhabit the same…what are you doing?”
Dean realized he'd been pushing closer and closer into the other man's space, trying to find some hint of Castiel in Jimmy's eyes. He straightened up guiltily. “So, uh,” he asked. “What do you think?”
Jimmy looked like a man whose patience had been pushed to the brink-and then given a kick past it. “I don't care! I just want him out of me! Okay? Sorry, I just…” He took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair, then lowered it to his knee with an unusual degree of reverence, like despite everything, he was grateful just to be able to perform such an ordinary action. “Look, he trusts you,” he said, eying Dean steadily. “I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine.”
“Right. Sure.” Forcing himself not to try one last time to find Cas within those blue depths, Dean squared his shoulders and went back upstairs.
The house was too quiet. Bobby had gotten an urgent call from a hunter he knew the next state over; he and Sam had gone to help while Dean stayed to deal with the most recent bit of fallout from Heaven v. Hell. If they were here…well, Dean still wouldn't want to talk to them. Not about this.
Which left Chuck. He was probably up in his room, either drinking, sleeping, writing, or looking at porn. Dean could ask Chuck. Not that Dean thought the prophet ought to be making a second career as an advice columnist-Dean wouldn't take his advice on which way to piss in a windstorm. But Anna wasn't the only one who could cheat. If Chuck already knew what Dean decided, then Dean wouldn't have to make up his mind.
“Nope,” Chuck said, opening the door before Dean could finish raising his hand to knock. “Sorry.”
“You don't know?” Dean asked, incredulous.
Chuck smiled awkwardly. “Let's just say that I do know that I don't tell you.”
“So you know,” said Dean, taking a deliberate step into Chuck's personal space.
“Heh. Um.” Chuck pulled his bathrobe more tightly around his body and maneuvered so that a chair was between them. “Look, trust me, you don't want me to tell you. You want to figure this out on your own.”
“I'll figure it out a lot faster if you just spill it!”
Chuck opened his mouth like he was going to protest; then suddenly his shoulders sagged. He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You pick blonde Angelina Jolie. Happy?”
“Blonde-?” Dean couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept. Not the concept of Angelina Jolie-he could wrap more than just his mind around that-but the idea of Cas, of Cas in- He realized he was frowning. “Really?”
Chuck thrust his finger out triumphantly. “No! See? It can't come from me. You need to just-” He made a shooing motion. “Just go. Think it through.”
Chuck had apparently found his reserve of courage and was now none-too-subtly herding Dean toward the door. “And don't worry,” he said as Dean stepped uncertainly back out into the hall. “Whatever you choose, we're not going to judge you.”
“Hey! What's that supposed to-” The door slammed resolutely shut.
“You people all suck,” Dean told the empty hallway.
At a loss for what to do, Dean went back downstairs and sat in Bobby's chair by the fireplace. He would have to tell Cas no, he thought. This was too much responsibility. The future of life on Earth resting on his shoulders-that he could just about almost take in its nonspecific, nebulous way. But this-with this he would see the results of his decision right in front of him, almost right away. And if he went a certain direction, a blonde Angelina Jolie-type direction, he knew it inevitably wouldn't be just a matter of seeing, but of touching, of- The images rushed his brain, and with them, the guilty, greedy thought: he could have everything he had ever wanted. Cas had given himself over to Dean, in soul and now in body, and damn it all, but did Dean ever wish he were either a much stronger or a much weaker person. Just a little more one way or the other, and maybe he'd be able to live with whatever decision he made.
And more importantly: maybe Cas would.
Dean picked at the flaking varnish on Bobby's desk. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it honestly didn't matter to him one way or the other: angels weren't like humans, after all. And Castiel had seemed perfectly willing to jump into poor little Claire when the opportunity presented itself. Unless that had all been a set-up to defeat the demons and bring Jimmy back around. Castiel could be a sneaky, heartless bastard of an angel when he wanted to be.
Past tense on the angel bit now, of course. Christ.
But Cas was still sneaky-Dean wouldn't like him half so much if he weren't. Could it be that all of this was a set-up, too? Because if this was actually Cas' way of asking Dean if he wanted to take their…whatever to the next level, then it was the most devious, backhanded, passive-aggressive declaration of devotion ever. In which case, maybe Castiel deserved whatever masturbatory fantasy of a body he got.
But then again, Dean thought, his restless fingers momentarily still, if Cas was being sincere-if he was leaving it up to Dean, if he was really and truly asking…
Dean's hand drifted up until it was hovering just below his throat. It stayed there, worrying the leather cord and the metal chain that hung there, unconsciously rubbing them together.
“You know what it means that he gave you that, don't you?”
It said a lot about the past year that Dean no longer jumped when angels popped into existence in front of him. “Spare me the lecture, all right? You're not helping.”
Anna tilted her head and gave him a considering look. “I think you're making this more complicated than it has to be.”
He glared up at her. “It's not like I'm choosing between the fries and the onion rings! This is a pretty big fucking decision!”
She shook her head. “No, it isn't. It's saying what you want.” She chewed her lip a little. “You're not actually all that good at wanting things for yourself, are you, Dean?”
He half-rose from the chair, a million sharp retorts ready on his tongue, but at the last second, the energy left him. He sank back, the vial containing Castiel's grace tangling and twisting with Sam's pendant, the pair of them bumping against Dean's heart.
“I just want Cas,” he snapped, “to be happy.”
“And he wants you to be happy,” Anna replied-when she wanted she could do the other angels' condescending act perfectly. “I'm not seeing the big problem here.”
“Right.” The sigh Dean expelled was almost a growl. “'Cause when all this went down-when Cas asked you to make me choose, what he was really saying was, 'So, tell Dean that I have abandoned my entire existence as I knew it for the sole purpose of becoming his girlfriend; please have him select a body for me with an especially nice rack.'”
“Is that what you want?” Anna asked, not nearly scornfully enough for Dean's taste. “For Cas to be your girlfriend?”
“No! No, I-” He dropped his head into his hands. “I…I want him,” he said quietly, “but, well-he's a he, isn't he, and I don't-I don't think I can want…that. But the idea of putting him in some, some-”
“Creepy blowup doll body?” Anna supplied.
“Yes,” hissed Dean. “It's-I wouldn't be able to do that, either.” He glanced at her sidelong, far too aware of the flush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. “I should just forget the whole thing and pick something generic and inconspicuous and male. Right?”
“Angels don't have the same rigid ideas about sex and gender that humans do, you know. For most of us, a body is just a body.” Anna seemed to be dangling this piece of information in front of him like a ripe apple.
It didn't for a moment tempt him. And that's how Dean knew.
“Yeah, but Cas isn't most of you, is he?”
Anna smiled. “Tell me what you want, Dean.”
Dean folded metal and glass into his fist and told her what he needed.
Dean waited a few minutes after they were done, to give Cas a chance to see how he felt about it all. When he finally went downstairs, the first thing he saw was Jimmy glaring at him.
“Do you have no imagination at all? Or were you just trying to pick the creepiest thing possible?”
“Buddy,” Dean said, patting Jimmy on a shoulder that was all his, “you have no imagination if you think this is the creepiest thing I could have come up with.”
Jimmy made a face as his brain clearly supplied him with several alternate possibilities. But Dean was already looking past him.
Cas was sitting on the cot. He wasn't glaring, but he wasn't quite smiling, either. The emotion in his eyes-those achingly familiar eyes-was hesitance mixed with hope, and all at once Dean realized that Anna had been right-it was the simplest thing in the world.
He knelt before he had time to think, to talk himself out of it. It was an action Cas could read perfectly clearly; he leaned forward, and they came together with a gentleness that in other circumstances Dean would have found shocking and ridiculous. But Dean was learning to throw such preconceived notions out the window.
He kissed Cas softly, feeling out the shape of his lips, the scrape of his stubble, the taste of him. Relief washed through him, and with it a giddy sort of happiness: he was an idiot. Of course he could do this, want this-he just had to learn to let himself.
He pulled back, wanting again to look Cas in the eye. Cas smiled at him-Dean was close enough to feel him practically vibrating with silent pleasure-and then there was nothing to do but to slide back in and kiss him again. And again. And again.
“Ready to go home?” he heard Anna ask, distantly.
“Yes, please!” said Jimmy, sounding pained. In a flutter of wings, they were gone.
“We owe him a more sincere display of gratitude,” Cas murmured, pulling back slightly. Dean felt a pleasurable shudder at the sound of his voice: it still had a roughness to it, though it lacked the same preternatural force.
“We can pay the whole Novak clan a visit,” Dean said. “Bring them a pie. You can tell anyone that stops by that you're Jimmy's cousin, his identical cousin.”
Cas' answering laugh suggested that he had no idea what Dean was talking about, but that he was happy to be there, having no idea what Dean was talking about.
“You are, right?” Dean asked, tracking the movement of Cas' pupils with his own, getting lost there-all-too-easily, still. “You're happy?” Dean swallowed. “Like this?”
Castiel's mouth twitched, and then it did something wholly new, something Dean had never seen before. It was like seeing the sun come up after a long night of fighting something nasty, Cas' smile.
“I believe that is the word for this emotion, yes.”
He hadn't lost his deadpan delivery, either-in fact, it had really come into its own. Dean's eyes narrowed. “You're a sly bastard, you know that?”
Castiel lifted a hand: reverently, like it was a miraculous object. Holding Dean's gaze, he picked up Dean's palm in his and pressed them both to Dean's chest, capturing the vial containing his grace between two layers of intertwined fingers. “I'm yours,” he said, “as you want me.”
Dean's body tensed. Then he was surging up, pushing forward until he was straddling Cas' lap, until he was bearing him backward onto the cot. Maybe Jimmy was right after all, he thought, as he buried his fingers in Cas' hair, as he kissed the new skin of Cas' throat. Maybe he did lack imagination. All he could conceive of wanting was right in front of him.
NOTES:
1. The original prompt for this was something about Dean wearing Castiel's grace around his neck. That's one of my favorite images ever, but obviously the focus of this fic became something else.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 04:38 pm (UTC)Very grateful for the outcome, don't care for La Jolie at all, LOL!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 05:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 05:28 pm (UTC)I'm still stuck at Cas giving Dean his grace to wear, sorry.
I hope they'll touch this subject in season 5. ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 06:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 06:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 07:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 07:20 pm (UTC)These are all that are getting me through these PAINFUL days until Sept 10
:)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 07:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 08:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 09:02 pm (UTC)You write them just so perfectly well... I'm gonna be so disappointed when the show doesn't match your fics, you have no idea.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 10:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-29 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-30 02:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-30 09:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-30 09:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-30 10:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-31 01:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-07 11:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-09 11:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-11 03:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-04-18 04:16 am (UTC)I'm aware that I am one sick, twisted individual -_-.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-29 07:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-13 06:22 pm (UTC)Brilliant beautiful work.