tiptoe39

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So ... if I were to do the timestamp meme, which I haven't done since Heroes fandom, would their be any requests?

(The timestamp meme is as follows: You give me a fic of mine and a date before/after it takes place - I write a snippet of a prequel/sequel/what-happens-next fic. So you could ask for, say, 1-year-later after Tale as Old as Time - or 20 years before the Baking Angel, when John comes into the bakeshop - that sort of thing.)

Juuuuuust curious :)

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Dean's out of the shower with his arms wrapped tight around Castiel's shoulders, and he's dripping on the floor and giving Castiel goosebumps and Castiel doesn't give a damn. Dean's here. With weeks between each visit, the days drag on and on, and an empty house seems less and less like a haven every day. But when Dean's here, comfort and cleanliness don't matter. What matters is the warm press of his skin, cold water drops notwithstanding, and the breath against his ear as Castiel fights off the shiver and types away.

Dean recites the words of the dialogue that's forming on the screen, whispering them in Castiel's ear in that guttural voice of his. Castiel can see the face of his villain in the book, the biker with the beautiful face and the devil horns that only the Angel Detective can see.

They call you an angel, but how angelic are you really? I've seen the way you look at that girl, the way your flesh calls to her. Can you really tell me, that if you didn't feel the wrath of heaven calling you, that you wouldn't do all the violence in the world to that pretty body?

Dean breaks character. "I don't want to say something like that."

"It's not you. It's a sadistic, murdering demon."

"But it's based on me." Dean's stiff, and Castiel sighs and turns from his laptop to lay a hand on Dean's face. "I'm being stupid again?"

"No, you're having the precise reaction I'm trying to evoke. Utter revulsion. Of course you don't want to be this man, he's the villain."

"But aren't villains better when they're a little sympathetic?"

"Now you're thinking too hard." Castiel gets up, pushes Dean backward and presses his face into Dean's shoulder. "You still smell like dust."

"I just showered!" Dean's fingers come up to cradle the back of Cas' neck.

"I should have come with you." Castiel licks Dean's neck. "Made sure you did it right."

"Neat freak--" but then he's falling backward onto the bed, Castiel falling on top of him, and there's no room to speak or lecture or berate beneath the barrage of kisses that ensues, the sweet leisurely sweep of tongue against tongue and the warm lock of thighs around waist. They groan, low and ragged, and move together within the island of time and space that they've created here together.