foolintherain | INBOX #305682

[ It's an intimate moment Castiel enjoys as he and Dean sit on their shared bed together with hands twined, a gold ring on Dean's finger, and bracelets warmed by their wrists that are made of beads that mirror the blood in their veins. Dean is radiant. Honest appreciation and love beams from his soul, and Castiel feels filled with Dean's warmth.

And then he goes and says something completely ridiculous, and Castiel feels instead an uncomfortable flush of cold. He stammers. ]

I'm‐ I'm not aware of the differences between being married and being "gay married."

[ Why are you like this, Dean. But really, Castiel can only blame himself. He gave Dean a ring of all jewelry pieces, after all, fully aware of possible implication. And even despite (or because of) Dean's teasing, Cas still loves him wholly. He raises his chin, proud, defiant, and quietly terrified as he answers. ]

If anything, we should be "gay engaged."

[ Dean is a master at ruining things - moments, movies, whatever. Blurting out spoilers and being obnoxious in a moment that's vulnerable...Cas shouldn't be surprised.

But he'd also kind of meant it, was maybe testing the waters to see what Cas would say.

Not that he's going to drag him by the wings down to the courthouse, but...sue him. He was curious, and hot damn, he's got his answer. ]

Mmm...I'm okay with that. [ It means he'll have to find Cas a ring - a good one, not some garbage made out of his ugly blood. ]

[ If there's anyone who knows Dean— scars, smiles — it's Castiel. Even in the face of potential rejection, he loves him. Cas has made peace with that years ago. But hearing that his proposal, however hypothetical, is accepted somehow makes him love Dean even more, in ways Castiel hadn't realized was possible. ]

Are you?

[ He warms, overwhelmed, and his expression softens. His hand unoccupied hand raises and he touches Dean's cheek gently, as if he's an illusion to be shattered. How could any one person be so wonderful? How could any one multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent be so lucky to be perceived, and acknowledged, and loved by a person like that? "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." His thumb smooths over Dean's lips, and Castiel leans in towards him, like gravity. His eyes drop to those full lips and his voice goes quiet with want that is much, much deeper than carnal. ]

Because if you're willing to offer me something so profound as a lifetime promised to one another... I'll take it, ravenously.

[ Dean tips his head and watches Cas, his wrist cool from where the paleblood bracelet rests. The bed is made only by virtue of Dean changing the sheets earlier that day, and he shifts where he's seated on the comforter, the metal of the ring warm against his finger, hand lifting to cover the one on his cheek.

Their lives have been wrought with trauma, with hardship and tears, heartbreak and loss. Dean can't remember a time from back home when he'd been truly happy, when worry hadn't creased his forehead and wore on his soul. The story was never ending, exhaustive and sad.

He wouldn't say Trench is 'happy'...not with the things they've been through, the pain of being yanked suddenly back into the 'right' timeline, of losing Sam to the waters, of the oen roaring in the basement. Deerington, strangely, for all of its faults had provided Dean with some of the happiest moments of his life.

Dean had wondered if that can happen here, if he would ever be afforded any kind of happiness. The answer, as of yet, seems to be no - but in this locked space with Castiel, with the door shut and the outside world left at bay if only for a moment, he thinks maybe...

Maybe.

Lips part under Cas' thumb and his eyes fix on stormy blue, his hand falling to rest against Cas' chest, a gentle press. ]

For as long as I'm alive, Cas, I'm yours.

[ There is nothing "easier" about being here in Trench. Different, certainly, but as far as pain goes, this world is frustratingly familiar, not to mention terrifyingly impermanent.

And then there's this: there's memories of Dean's embrace, or heartfelt promises, and misery in parting. Even more exceptionally, there's the glorious present, or Dean's hands warmly pressed under his, of Dean's flushed lips and clear eyes, and the honesty in his affirmation that Castiel can feel as if the words were woven into the fabric of his grace itself. Irrationally, his heart races under Dean's hand, and Cas leans forward, against Dean's hand, to close the last bit of space between him and kiss his mouth with naked adoration, gently, again and again between whispered words, meant only for them. ]

I love you. Dean... Let me be yours, too. Be with me, always. Marry me.

[ There's probably some ceremony he's missing. He should be down on one knee, probably, rather than kneeling forward on their bed. But for all Cas had imagined spending his life with Dean, even sharing his bed, he'd never let himself dream that he'd ever have a relationship with Dean that might culminate in this. It's equal parts deeply satisfying and terrifying, and he isn't entirely sure that he isn't dead himself and this is some pthumerian's version of heaven. Even as he kisses Dean's mouth, nuzzles his nose, and meets his eyes, he waits for the hammer to fall. ]

[ However Dean expected this afternoon to go, this certainly wasn't anywhere on his radar. When he'd found Cas sitting on their bed in nothing but that white shirt and his slacks, he'd sort of imagined maybe pressing him back against the bed, flicking those buttons open one by one, working his way down Cas' chest with his tongue until he hit the waistband of his pants, maybe teasing him through the material, palm him a little to get him nice and worked up.

Ending up with a ring on his hand and a whispered promise on his lips -- not what he expected. Maybe that's okay, though -- nothing in their life is expected, and with everything that is constantly going wrong around him, maybe he's allowed to have this one, precious thing that's right. He sure wants to, anyway.

Maybe it's time he threw caution to the wind - let himself love endlessly, with his whole heart, because he is full of it, brimming with adoration, but constantly shoving it back down because that wasn't who he was supposed to be, that isn't who he's expected to be. Thing is, though - back in Deerington, under those twinkling lights with Taylor Swift and Maurice Williams and Norah Jones, he'd kissed Cas under the stars and fireworks, and no one expected anything out of him, no one asked him to be anything other than himself.

His fingers twist in Cas' shirt as he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, lips brushing against the angels, his grip tight. ]

Yeah. Hell yeah.

[ Unplanned spontaneity seems to be the way they roll, and it hasn't always worked for them. Sometimes, snap decision have gone very, very badly. Castiel was standing in front of Dean's funeral pyre just recently. Hardly a week ago, "Dean," as Castiel knows him, didn't exist in this world. But then he was reborn, incredibly, back into this world, and how could Castiel take that as anything but a sign from a very powerful higher being that this is where he was meant to be?

It's still difficult for Castiel to see himself as anything but a sunspot blemishing the radiance of Dean's existence, but there isn't anywhere in any universe he'd rather be that where Dean is, as close as possible beside him, and— ]

Yes?

[ And that was a yes. An aggressive but emphatic yes, and Castiel feels a rush of giddiness so strong that his mouth stretches wide in a grin, interrupting their sweet, soft kisses. Cas feels high. The lingering, very sensible fear he felt melts completely away, replaced by absolute bliss, hallelujah, and he can't keep the delighted bubble of laughter from his throat. ]

[ God, if Cas only knew how beautiful he really was to Dean. Even now as they sit here on the bed, lips brushing in the sweetest of kisses, all Dean can think about is how perfect he is, how good, kind, wonderful. He's Dean's sunlight, a star that he can't help but orbit. ]

Damn right that's a yes.

[ Eloquence isn't his forte, and if Cas expected anything other than emphatic explicatives, well - he's clearly misjudged the situation.

Dean smiles against his lips, pushes forward against him, shoving Cas back down against the bed, a hand on his hip, fingers tugging at his shirt. ]

Can we consummate early? Repeatedly, preferably.

INBOX #305682

One Eternity Later

🎶 i will wait 🎶

:,)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject