Pearl String of Fics: First Kisses In the Rain

[tiptoe39]

So inspired partly by comment_fic and partly by my amazing Twitter timeline, I'd like to open up the first ever Pearl String of Fics.

In the comments, please leave a short fic/drabble depicting a First Kiss in the Rain. Any pairing or fandom is welcome. There may be many Dean/Castiel fics, but we'll just consider them the white pearls, and the other pairings are the colored pearls that liven up the necklace, yes?

Each unique, all beautiful...

Enjoy :)

Comments

[zanyrainey.livejournal.com]

Arthur was motionless, sprawled on the ground where he'd fallen after taking a dark wizard's spell to the center of his chest. His eyes did not open. His chest did not heave with pained breath nor flutter with shallow sighs. There was no sign that Prince Arthur still inhabited his earthly form.

Merlin had darted through the scattered bodies to his prince's side. The rain had come moments later, slow and tentative at first. Merlin didn't notice it as he shook Arthur's shoulders, desperately calling his name. As the intensity of the autumn shower increased, so did Merlin's frantic efforts to rouse the prince. He shouted, slapped both cheeks, and shouted again. Tears sprang from his eyes to blend with the droplets of rain streaming down his cheeks, falling on Arthur's chest.

The clouds became relentless in their issue, turning the forest gray. Merlin began to pray to the old gods, the new god, and to the whole of the universe. He begged them all to return Arthur to life, screaming at them of his devotion. Spent, Merlin collapsed, rolling to face the sky, attempting to shout at all the powers in existence but his voice failing as more tears joined the rain. He covered his face and searched for the energy to continue crying. He was lost without his Arthur.

Unbeknownst to Merlin, the spell flung in haste by the dark wizard was only temporary. At the edge of the clearing, a few men were rousing from forced slumber, hit by the same rushed incantation. Merlin didn't see them. He cried through his hands, muttering and sobbing as the skies ignored his pleas. Arthur's eyes flickered, then opened. The rain pelting his face was overwhelming, so he closed them but listened. He sensed Merlin before he heard his pained whispers. As feeling returned to Arthur's limbs, he tried to make out what Merlin was saying.

"I never told him that I love him."

With his eyes shut and his palms pressed over his brow, Merlin didn't see Arthur sit up. He didn't see Arthur's smile as Arthur gazed down at Merlin. He only felt the sudden pull of strong hands on his wrists, pulling away his hands. He opened his eyes to see a flash of blonde hair, a smirk of pink lips, and a wink of the bluest eyes. Blinking to adjust his vision, Merlin gasped, "Wha..?" He didn't speak the words in his mind before feeling the press of those soft lips against his own and the mix of rain and tears that flowed from his cheeks to Arthur's and from Arthur's to his.

"And I love you in return, Merlin."

As rain soaked them in its cool embrace, Merlin parted his lips to attempt speech again, only to take the prince's tongue into his mouth, rendering him oblivious to the sorrow he'd felt and the touch of the autumn shower.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

ajfkl;afkjek;fjekl;jfla;jfla;jfkljafk;f i can't deal with all this greatness tonight it's killing me

oh my god. <33333 THANK YOU.

[jabber-moose.livejournal.com]

nflsnfdkf;afn;sfnsdkj i love you. You almost broke me. almost

[hils.livejournal.com]

OH GOD YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!

Sam/Jess

[blue-fjords.livejournal.com]

He yells out to her across the Quad, but the rain is too loud on the paved paths. Clutching her dropped notebook to his chest, he takes off after her, dodging other students splashing through the largest puddles with a calculated je ne sais quoi, narrowly avoiding maintenance staff in their tricked-out golf carts, ducking to protect his eyes from professors with umbrellas large enough to shelter a village. He's sure his hair looks like a toupee that lost a battle with a dishwasher by the time he reaches her. He's soaked with sweat and rain, it's dripping off the end of his nose, and this is not how he wanted to officially meet Jessica Moore; nevertheless, it's what he's stuck with. He slips in the saturated grass beside the path and goes down onto one knee, just barely avoiding a header into the mud.

"You, you dropped this... back there," he waves vaguely over his shoulder and tries to breathe normally, as if he always addresses women while on bended knee. "Um. Jessica. Thought you might miss it."

Her eyes light up as she takes the damp notebook from him. The rain makes her look even more angelic, a rainbow in each drop that clings to her lashes. He almost says such cheesiness aloud, her notebook has P-O-E-T-R-Y written across it in purple ink, but stops himself just in time.

"I would, thank you. Are you hurt? Sam, right?"

His heart thunders painfully in his chest, louder than the rumbling sky. She knows his name!

"I'm good, good. I just, uh, it's nice to see a different perspective."

His cheeks are burning but he doesn't want to lumber awkwardly to his feet with her watching. She laughs and tucks a long lock of her curly blonde hair behind her ear.

"Good point. Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you in class."

She remembers they have a class together! It's a huge lecture class of one hundred freshman, but still. And she's stretching forth her hand, to shake or help him up, but that's not what he does.

He lifts her hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across her rain-damp skin. Her hand is tiny in his meaty paw and the moment he releases it he thinks he should never have given into the impulse.

But then she smiles and it's like he's basking in the sun.

Re: Sam/Jess

[kel-reiley.livejournal.com]

ADORBS!

Re: Sam/Jess

[zanyrainey.livejournal.com]

Fabulous!

Re: Sam/Jess

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

So cute!!! omg :D

Re: Sam/Jess

[epicycles.livejournal.com]

DAWWWWWWW

[rocksalt-sparks.livejournal.com]

“So, Sam doesn't truly favor the sound of a thousand four-year-olds whining over your singing?”

Dean shakes his head, but grins, “Well maybe, but I kind of doubt it. It was a joke, Cass.”

Castiel watches as Dean leans back, eyes falling shut as his head rests against the tattered, red couch. Sam and Bobby are both asleep upstairs, leaving Dean and Castiel to sit in the cozy silence of the dimly light library.

“I like the rain.”

Dean's head pops up, eyebrows raised in question.

“The sound of it,” Castiel adds quickly, his eyes darting away from the man sitting in front of him, “I find it...comforting.”

It sounds strange even to him. Not long ago, Castiel would not have understood the what comfort felt like. Or the need of it.

Dean doesn't say anything as he pushes up off the couch. He simply grabs hold of the rough material of Castiel's trench coat and gives it a tug. Castiel stands and follows Dean as they head towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“To listen to the rain.”

They step off Bobby's porch, their feet kicking up little dust clouds as they make their way through the salvage yard. Castiel looks up at the perfectly clear night sky, the thousands of stars winking back down at him and his charge. There's not a drop of rain in sight.

They near the Impala and Dean points to the hood, “Sit.”

Castiel remains standing at the front of the car as Dean gets in the driver's side and begins rooting around for something.

“Dean, it's not raining.”

The hunter's head momentarily pops up over the steering wheel, allowing Castiel to see him through the windshield. He heaves a weary sigh and says, “Thanks Captain Obvious. Gimme a minute.”

Raising his eyes Heavenward, Castiel leans against the cool hood of the Impala, leaving his charge to whatever madness he seems to be currently afflicted with. The sudden sound of music invading on the quiet of the darkened yard would have made Castiel jump had he been human. Instead he simply watches as Dean rejoins him. Grinning the man hops up onto the hood, carefully scooting back to lean against the windshield, motioning for Castiel to do the same.

~~It is the summer of my smiles - flee from me Keepers of the Gloom.
Speak to me only with your eyes. It is to you I give this tune.
Ain't so hard to recognize - These things are clear to all from
time to time.~~

“Dean...”

He glances towards Castiel, green eyes full of mischief, “It's called “The Rain Song.” It's one of Led Zeppelin's.”

Castiel had spent many hours traveling with the Winchesters during their battle to forgo the Apocalypse. He'd spent less time with them now that Heaven was at war. Castiel had heard every one of Dean's tapes at least a hundred times over. Despite this, he had never heard this song before.

They're silent for a moment, Dean turning back to the stars as Castiel gazes at him, both listening to the softly playing guitars.

“Dad always said this was Mom's favorite Zep song. Well, if she was forced to pick a favorite,” Dean says, through a short huff of a laugh, “I don't-”

The hunter stops abruptly, his past darkening his features for a moment. It's gone when Dean turns toward him again, “I thought you might like it. You know, for when it's not raining.”

Castiel doesn't decide to do it, he just finds himself there. The dry, forever chapped lips of what once was only a vessel to him press against the forgiving softness of Dean's. Seconds pass and Castiel fully expects to be pushed away. He waits for Dean to jump up, yelling something like, “What the hell, Cass?!” Castiel would not truly be surprised if Dean tried to shoot him, if only on principle alone.

None of these things comes to pass.

Instead, Dean relaxes into him. He tentatively pulls Castiel closer, their lips slip sliding together perfectly. Each touch and each press is a compliment to the other. In this one moment, both are on the exact same page.

~~These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion - I seek the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall...

It's just a little rain...~~

[zanyrainey.livejournal.com]

This!

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes. *happy sigh*

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Awww! This was adorable! :D

[darkforetold.livejournal.com]

THIS WAS PERFECT!

I love how it's not actually raining, but a song about rain instead. It's unique and beautiful. And.. happy. I want them to be happy forever. Here, they are.

Loved it. so much.

[epicycles.livejournal.com]

Aw, this was so cool! (Zeppelin rules!)

Crowley/Aziraphale

[jabber-moose.livejournal.com]

"Oh, dear," Aziraphale murmured as he stepped outside of the Ritz, casting a cursory gaze at the darkening sky. "I don't remember them calling for rain."

"It's England , Angel," Crowley stepped out as well, eyeing the sky warily. "They don't need to call for it." He tugged his coat a bit more securely around him as he and and Aziraphale strode toward the waiting Bentley.

"I suppose the rain will be good for your plants, though," Aziraphale offered, amiably.

"Suppose so," Crowley agreed, and that's when the skies opened up and unleashed the rain.

Aziraphale bolted for the car with a startled sound, and Crowley was about to remind him that he could simply teleport, that he didn't need to get wet, when the angel suddenly stopped, face tilting back to the rain, eyes closing.

Crowley was seized with such affection without warning (for a demon), that he slipped closer, taking in the open look of delight on Aziraphale's face, before backing him smoothly against the car, and kissing him, lightly.

The Bentley shuddered to life without prompting, Freddie Mercury's The Kiss seeping through the speakers.

And when Aziraphale kissed him back, Crowley could safely say they'd finally gotten something right.

Re: Crowley/Aziraphale

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

OMG this. England not needing calling for rain. Aziraphale worrying about Crowley's plants. FREDDIE MERCURY PROVIDING THE SOUNDTRACK. XDD and the kiss itself was so sweet, and I loved that the Bentley came to life on its own. :DD this was just lovely.

I couldn't resist. *hides*

[ladyeternal.livejournal.com]

It’s a total fluke: both of them working the same job at the same time. Their reasons couldn’t be more dissimilar, but that doesn’t matter just now. What matters is that Blue Eyes got the piece just as Dean was getting into the room, and now it’s a chase.

They’re on foot, and it’s raining. Blue Eyes is in some kind of soft-soled shoes, his pack strapped across his back, the item secure. The thief is lithe and quick and cunning, just like Dean. And just like Dean, he’s determined to get away with the prize.

But Dean is more stubborn than Blue Eyes probably ever wanted to be. And the jewel-encrusted athame Blue Eyes has tucked away in that bag is going to get the thief killed if Dean doesn’t get it from him and into a curse-box.

In the end, those angels that are allegedly looking out for Dean must be looking out for Blue Eyes, too. Because Blue Eyes tries to lose Dean in an alley and he loses just a little momentum and then Dean’s on him, slamming the slender frame back into one of the brick walls. Blue Eyes loses his breath in a rush, staring down at Dean with huge startled eyes.

“You really don’t want to hang onto that thing,” Dean advises, giving a quick shake of his head to clear away the rivulets streaming down from his hair. “Everyone that’s ever owned it’s died within a month.”

Blue Eyes laughs a little, his coal-black hair plastered to his face. “You don’t really believe in curses,” he scoffs.

“And you really don’t want to push your luck.” The thief, Dean realizes, can’t be any older than him. A creature of whim and wind, like Dean himself, and beautiful, too. Tempting to all of the senses Dean has never let his father know he possesses.

“You’re serious.” Blue Eyes appears to study him, measuring him up. Dean gets the uncomfortable impression that Blue Eyes can see every fault line of his soul, could out-con him if given half a breath to try it. “You really think this thing has a curse on it.”

“Believe me or don’t,” Dean insists, voice low. “But you ain’t leavin’ this alley with it. Can’t let you.”

“Why do you care?” Blue Eyes asks suddenly. “You could just wait until it kills me and then take it, if you’re so sure that’s how this works.”

The question startles Dean a little. He’s not used to people questioning why he’d want to save them, only how he’s sure they need saved from something. “Saving people’s part of the family business,” he replies, his expression softening a little around the edges.

A beat, their eyes locked while Blue Eyes considers. And then those lips are on his, Blue Eyes’ gloved hands curling around Dean’s back, kneading into the sodden fabric of Dean’s shirt where it clings to his skin. Dean’s surprised, but he’s kissing Blue Eyes back, tempted to indulge what he’s never dared before.

For a long moment, it’s just two confidence men in the rain, hunter and hunted, rainwater dripping into the places where their mouths fuse and part and seal together again. The athame forgotten, breath caught between kisses even as it’s recovered from the chase, the heat of their bodies battling the chill in the air.

The kiss ends, and Blue Eyes’ blue eyes are dancing knowingly. “You’re good.”

“I have to be,” Dean replies.

A devastating smile, and Blue Eyes darts from Dean’s arms and is gone before Dean can say more.

At first, Dean doesn’t care. He’d slipped the athame from Blue Eyes’ pack during the kiss, after all. He’s gotten what he came for. He grabs a towel from the trunk before driving back to the motel, intending to grab drive-thru and beer on the way…

Until he realizes his wallet is missing.

In its place is a key card for a much nicer hotel. Much, much nicer.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean mutters, heading for the nearest gas station for directions. He’s got time to deal with the athame. He’s getting his wallet back first… and a night of creature comforts, too, as compensation for the little thief making Dean chase him down in the rain.

What Dean isn’t expecting is for Blue Eyes to be waiting outside the hotel when he arrives. “Took you longer than I thought,” he comments.

“Had to secure the piece someplace you won’t get at it,” Dean returns. “You got a name?”

“Probably as many as you do,” Blue Eyes replies. “But you can call me Neal. Neal Caffrey.”

Re: I couldn't resist. *hides*

[zanyrainey.livejournal.com]

DID NOT SEE THAT COMING!

Excellent work!

[sparseparsley.livejournal.com]

There once was a hunter named Dean
And an angel in some rainy scene
The sky fell in drips
Past slack, ashen lips
That tasted like what could have been

(I wanted to write a little fic, I swear! But it's past midnight now and I'm overtired and apparently I write the unfunny limericks under those conditions. Who knew!)

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Huh, I never imagined limericks could have a sensuality about them. O.o

dean/cas, supposed to be set after 6x22, 1/2

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

"You know, I always thought that when people say that they need to find themselves it's always a bunch of crap."

No one answers, but Dean had figured. It's no matter - he knows that Cas hears him regardless.

"Seriously, I kind of get it, but this bullshit you're pulling is ridiculous. You can't just fly off because you feel guilty. Even if you should."

Dean leans back against the Impala's hood, looking up at the clear sky. Nothing still. He shouldn't be surprised, not really, not knowing Cas, but this is still ridiculous. Fucking off who knows where to 'put order in your head' when you got yourself into a clusterfuck during which you became a god exactly because you took all the decisions on your own still sounds colossally stupid, to Dean anyway. If only it was true, but Dean thinks it isn't. The only reason Cas went and fucked off is that he's still a martyr. And he's probably thinking he's punishing himself for his power trip.

"You know who does this kind of thing? People who are too scared to face their actions."

Nothing.

"Or people who think that since they fucked up, they're done with the world. Or who think that there aren't any idiots left who give a shit about them."

Still nothing. Dean doesn't notice the lone cloud appearing in the sky, though.

"Cas? Quit this crap. We can talk. You fucked up. And fine, I was pissed at you. It's not the end of the world. You don't need to do it alone."

No answers again, but Dean does notice that the lone cloud was joined by others. The sky is barely clear now. Maybe he should take the hint and give up, but it'd mean that he doesn't believe in his own speech if he did.

"Cas, come on. You want to have guilt trips, you'd be in good company." Dean is aware that he sounds pathetic, but then again Cas is the only one who can hear him. "I miss you, all right? I'm not - okay, I'm not over it, but it doesn't mean that we're done. You don't need to be back right now if you don't want to but would it kill you to give a sign? At least I won't think that you'll be gone until I'm dead. Seems reasonable, doesn't -"

Dean doesn't finish the sentence because as soon as he says sign, it starts raining.

The clouds are dark gray by now, and the weird thing is that it's raining just over Bobby's house. Dean raises his eyes again, feeling rain washing over his face. It's strange. It isn't usual rain. It's somewhat warm, and it falls slowly. It almost feels as if someone is running their fingers on his cheek as droplets roll down on his skin. There's more rain falling on his face than on his hands or shoulders, Dean realizes.

"Cas, is - is that you?" he whispers, and it rains harder. Just around him though - the ground at five feet from him is barely wet, just a few droplets touching it.

"Uh. Guess you made it clear," Dean says, his voice sounding slightly relieved. He closes his eyes, takes a breath and opens his mouth again, set on saying something else, but he never does. There's still fine rain falling over his lips, droplets almost lingering there, reluctant to fall down. There's such a lovely warmth surrounding him, and he doesn't even feel that wet. He knows it's insane, but it's almost as if there's an arm around his waist and maybe lips brushing at the corner of his mouth. It lasts no more than five seconds and then it's just rain again. Dean opens his eyes, looks down at his hands - there's no dirt under his fingers, but there was when he first started talking.

Re: dean/cas, supposed to be set after 6x22, 2/2

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

"All right," he says, "guess I'll be waiting. Don't take years to find yourself though."

As soon as he says it, it stops raining and the clouds part; in a minute, he's not even wet anymore.

And then he turns to his left and Cas is there.

Dean barely manages not to curse. "Do you always have to scare the living crap out of me?"

"My apologies. I just realized that maybe I was... finding myself in the wrong place." He sounds hesitant, and there are lines on his face that weren't there last, as if this body is really his now (and it probably is).

"So the rain was you?"

"It was me. Quite literally. But I... figured it was a safer way to show myself. Until I was sure."

"Really. Nice trick then," Dean says, his thumb running over his lower lips. Cas catches it - Dean doesn't miss that his cheeks flush slightly.

So that's how it is? Dean can't say he minds it. If anything, Cas is still as sly as he always was.

"All right. So, you wanna come in or not? I was going to make coffee anyway."

Cas nods, once, his eyes as bright as they were when Dean told him never to change. Dean decides that after that coffee he's going to show Cas that he understood what the show before meant. After all, he thinks, if it felt that good before, it's going to be even better if he has the chance to kiss back.

Hm.... Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel, idek

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

(So this is sort of a continuation of my other post... fix-it? :P )

He's still standing there, Dean notices. Their angel-gone-human-gone-angel-gone-God-gone-human-again is standing in the middle of Bobby's field of scrap metal, soaking wet in the rain that's been pounding on the windows of this little house the entire day.

Dean notices how Sam is, of course. Months of reading his brother every hour, every minute as the Wall came tumbling down and Sam struggled not to cave under the memories of his personal Hell, has made Dean every bit as good a Sam-gauger as he was in the old days. Perhaps even before Stanford.

His brother's miserable. Cas is miserable. And, Dean? Well, he thrives on the happiness of his family, so of course he's even more miserable than the rest of them.

Demon souls and Purgatory is a tricky deal. Complicated. But really, Dean's content with ignoring the whole half-year that's gone by if it would make Sam and Cas- and himself, by extension- okay again. As okay as they'll ever be.

So he leaves his miserable brother in Bobby's living room and goes out into the rain storm. "Hey, Cas."

Cas barely glances up in greeting, and his eyes hold fear. Why, Dean doesn't understand. "Dean."

Dean doesn't think he's ever heard Cas say a proper 'hello' to him. Or goodbye. He brushes the thought away; doesn't want to think about goodbyes.

The ex-angel is still staring at him, still waiting for something. Dean realizes he's waiting for Dean to react about what he saw earlier. Sam and Cas kissing in the rain. Whether he'll yell at Cas or just hit him.

He's not gonna hit Cas. Maybe he wanted to, for a while, but you don't kick a puppy who's already down. Dean isn't a cruel man outside of Hell- at least, he hopes he isn't. So instead he just waits for something else to happen.

After what seems an eternity and a half, but can't nearly be that long because he's not even soaked through yet, Dean leans forward and presses his lips against Castiel's cheek. There's stubble on it, just a little, and Dean realizes they have to teach Cas to be human now.

The ex-angel himself has closed his eyes, his face a pinched expression as if he's still waiting for Dean to punch him. His breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and Dean feels the hot puffs of air against his mouth. He's not quite sure when he moved from Cas' cheek to his mouth, but by the time he realizes he's kissing what's now maybe his brother's angel, Cas makes a keening sound low in his throat and is pressing back.

He opens up for Dean, the warm inside of his mouth a stark contrast to his chilled lips, and makes a sound that's almost a sob. He's kissing like he's never done it before, all lips and tongue and pure abandon, and Dean realizes that he's probably right and that this is perhaps Cas' first kiss apart from the one he just shared with Sam. And that's little sick to think about, in a way, so he lets it go.

Then Cas pulls back to stare at Dean again. "Sam," he whispers, and his mouth looks absolutely wrecked in the evening light. If he weren't so beautiful, he would look a bit like a drowned dog who'd just been revived.

"I know," Dean says, because he knowns so goddamn well. "We'll figure out something."

The spark of hope in Cas' eyes almost hurs to watch, it's so fierce. But he doesn't move.

"You... want a beer?" Dean asks hesitantly, and finally his ex-angel nods and follows him back inside.

Dean will give him a beer, and then another one when Sam enters the room along with a very awkward conversation that Dean will never speak to anyone about, ever. But when Cas asks if thy have anything stronger, Dean says no. He thinks about the drug addict version of Cas four years in the future, and gives his ex-angel a third beer instead.

~

Re: Hm.... Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel, idek

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

AND THEN THEY WENT INSIDE AND DRIED OFF FOR A LONG LAZY RAINY THREESOME OK????????????

LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE.

um... so this popped in my head...

[mfluder42.livejournal.com]

... have not written fic for nearly 10 years. srsly nervous. but... whatever... (with hugs and smishes to obstinatrix for the review, edit and encouragement... and the same to tiptoe39 for ordering me to post it *g*)


Wendigos. Ghosts. Vampires. Demons. Douchebag angels with grand plans of an earthly apocalypse. Fucking Lucifer himself. He’s faced them all down at one point or another in his comparatively short life, but the killer of it all? The thing that is causing him the most angst, the most stress, the most heartache right now?

Rain.

Motherfucking, never-ending in an epically biblical 40 days and 40 nights fashion, goddamn rain.

Falling fucking water. Fucking water that has wiped out roads, raised rivers and washed out bridges. Bridges that joined them. Gaping spans that now separate them. He'd made a promise.

He's a Winchester. He keeps his promises.

He promised he'd be there. He promised he wouldn't let him face the end alone.

He's family. A sibling. A brother. His soul mate.

He promised he’d have his back, that he'd be there to fight beside him. To die beside him if necessary.

He promised himself it wouldn't be necessary.

And goddamn, motherfucking rain made him break his promise, has nearly broken him. Because in the lights of the car's headlights, dimmed to a dull glow by darkness and the goddamn motherfucking rain he can see him lying on the road, body twisted unnaturally, painfully, eyes starring but barely registering his arrival. He's out of the car, engine still running, door left ajar with no thought for the rain that will soak the interior of the thing he lovingly refers to as "his baby". He has no thought for anything, anyone, but the figure prone on the ground. He kneels beside him, scared to touch, scared to breathe in case he misses the merest sign of life.

The rain keeps falling, and an eternity passes before he reaches a hand out to touch.

Eyes look up and there is recognition, and he exhales at last. He sits on the ground, lifts the prone figure into his arms, holds him carefully, closely.

He feels a breath against his neck as the battered figure in his arms speaks at last.

"You came."

"Told you I would."

"You’re late."

"I know. Rain."

"Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?"

"No. I won. I think."

He looks down, takes in the broken body, battered face.

"This is how winning looks?"

"Could be worse."

He starts to laugh but it turns into a sob as the stress of the last few hours reaches breaking point.

He pulls him closer, irrational fear of losing what he values more than his own life overriding any concern for the discomfort he may be causing. He rocks back and forth slightly, slowly, seeking comfort for them both in the touch, in the motion.

He feels movement, the body in his arms shifting slightly, feels an arm reach up, a hand brush against his cheek. He looks down and their eyes meet, hold, their faces close, almost touching. Wet lips brush against his own, the briefest touch, a searing touch, before they pull back. Eyes search his face, seeking response.

He runs his fingertips over his own lips, trying to capture the sensation of the kiss, to measure the change that one kiss has made. He can't feel it on his lips, on his fingertips, but he can feel it within. He smiles.

"Yeah, it could be worse."

The smile is returned.

"I'll be okay."

"I know you will. We both will."

And he believes it.

He holds him close again, and feels hands hold him tight in return.

Moments pass, seconds, minutes, hours. He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He doesn't want to be the one to break the spell. He can feel the cold ground beneath him soaking his jeans, his underwear, to the point he's lost all feeling in his ass. He can feel the rain pelting down, water running down his neck, under his shirt.

But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this moment.

Because he's here. He's alive. He's... he's himself again. And they've won. The future lies before them. And nothing else matters.

"Dean, it's raining."

He looks down again and his eyes meet those whose color he can't see but which he knows are the deepest blue he's ever seen. That he will see again.

He smiles.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

Re: um... so this popped in my head...

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

This is so truly awesome :DDDD

D/C First kiss in the rain...

[zatnikatel.livejournal.com]

He hears the voice the fifth time he surfaces, spluttering, heaving in great lungfuls of air into shriveled lungs, his sinuses exploding from the water he inhaled as he dove frantically into the dark, and his eyes stinging from trying to see through the murk.

“What are you doing in there, Dean?”

He thinks he might cry out as he swivels his head, sees Castiel standing up there on the shore, his head tilted and his brows tenting quizzically. He motions his head to the dark, sleek bulk of the caddy, beached half in and half out of the lake. “I see you managed.”

The water is freezing, and Dean can hear his teeth start to click out a percussion as he swims in place. “You’re alright,” he stutters. “Fuck. You’re alright.”

Castiel frowns. “Of course I’m alright,” he offers matter-of-factly. “I know my limitations as a human. I hid behind a tree.” He nods sagely. “Perhaps you should have.”

Fast silver arrows of rain start plopping into the water around Dean. “Perhaps I should have…?” he echoes. He feels all breathless, crushed and tight in his chest, and he tells himself it’s because he nearly drowned while he searched.

Castiel hugs himself as he regards Dean, glances up as thunder sounds and lightning flashes. “Have you finished your swim?” he inquires politely. “Only I’m getting wet.”

Dean stares balefully back at him, and fuck it if he doesn’t see the trace of a smile playing around Castiel’s mouth. He dog paddles into find his depth, wades up to the bank and reaches up. “Some help?” he snaps.

Castiel bends, extends a winter-cold hand, and Dean grabs a hold of it and pulls with all his might, hopping out of the way as nimbly as he can weighed down as he is by clothing. Castiel surges clumsily up from under the water, arms windmilling, and Dean slaps his palm down on top of his head, dunks him under again for good measure. “Have you finished your swim?” he grudges out as his friend surfaces again.

Castiel is breathing fast, his hair plastered thickly to his brow, and the moonlight catches his eyes, huge in his too-pale face. He blinks as water splashes down harder from above.

“Raindrops keep falling on your head,” Dean says stupidly, and he doesn’t even think, he shuffles right up there, clamps his hand around the back of Castiel’s skull, angles him just so and leans in.

There’s a second when he stops, when all he can see is Nebraska-sky blue gazing back at him, and he wonders if he might be giving Castiel a choice. And his friend’s eyelashes flutter, black crescents folding down, and then Castiel’s hand is on Dean’s face, his thumb sliding gentle through the moisture slicking Dean’s cheekbone. He closes the millimeter of distance and Dean sinks into the kiss, a deliberate, hypnotic brush of lips on his, back and forth, up, down and around, soft and light and warm, and so damn slow as Castiel molds their mouths together, sucking Dean’s lower lip in and grazing it just barely with his teeth. It isn’t even really erotic, Dean thinks in some part of his brain, even if it’s lighting a fuse and sparking across his synapses like wildfire. It’s reverent, tender, like it means something.

And then it’s gone and there’s only the cold outside and the heat inside, and Castiel looking at him the way he always does, like he’s absorbing Dean, only now Dean can see the shy yearning there.

Castiel tilts his head and his voice is hesitant, almost a whisper. “What now, Dean?”

Re: D/C First kiss in the rain...

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

My writing wants to be your writing when it grows up. God, your imagery. I just. fjaklfjaklfjl;f. Marry me.

In the Stacks; Dean/Cas, PG (a hs!AU)

[dizzzylu.livejournal.com]

This is less than 500 words and totally a team effort. Inspired by annundriel, rain problem solved by squeemonster, checked over by both perfumaniac and _mournthewicked. All you ladies are awesome. As is tiptoe39

: : :

It's the skin of Castiel's back, Dean thinks, that makes him crack. Castiel is crouched over the bottom shelf, his too-small t-shirt riding up to reveal smooth skin and the curve of his spine. Dean's hand twitches against his leg, itching to map it all; to fit his fingers over the sharp spurs of Castiel's hips, press his lips to the knobs in Castiel's spine and work his way down, down.

Before Dean can reach out Castiel stands and turns, is suddenly much closer than he should be, and Dean realizes he's no longer leaning against the bookshelf behind him. He's a breath's space away from Castiel, his body heat seeping through the layers of Dean's clothes. Castiel's head tips back and his eyes widen behind his dorky, thick-rimmed glasses, and Dean can't stop staring at his mouth. The way it wraps around Dean's name, the slick tongue that darts out to lick his lips.

Dean cups Castiel's face in one warm palm, gaze bouncing between bright blue eyes and shiny pink lips, and leans in. He keeps the kiss simple at first, a damp cling of lips that doesn't last nearly long enough; pulls back a little to make sure Castiel isn't panicking, then does it again, a little firmer this time. Drags his tongue over the seam of Castiel's mouth and he can taste mint of Cas' toothpaste and the strawberry milkshake he'd sucked down in the school cafeteria after lunch.

Castiel sighs and suddenly goes pliant, his body comfortable and perfect in Dean's arms. His hand slides from Castiel's face to the back of his head and his fingers sift through wild, silky soft hair. His other hand splays flat against the small of Castiel's back, slipping underneath the t-shirt to skim along his spine. Dimly, Dean registers ten pin-pricks of pressure on his biceps; Castiel's hands clinging for support. He grins and pulls away again, proud of the dazed look in Castiel's eyes.

"Dean." Castiel says again, a sigh this time, his lips curving into a shy smile of his own. Before he can say anything more, he's wet. He's wet and Dean's wet and there are alarms blaring and the librarian is shouting. Castiel looks up. "Looks like somebody set the sprinklers off.”

And then he's soaked, and Dean is soaked and alarms are blaring and the librarian is yelling. "Somebody set the sprinklers off."

"My bad," Dean says with a wink.

"We should probably go," Castiel says, resting his thumb against the corner of Dean's mouth. He gasps when Dean's tongue brushes against it

"Yeah, probably." But Dean just leans in again, slots their mouths together, and starts learning the secrets of Castiel's mouth.

Re: In the Stacks; Dean/Cas, PG (a hs!AU)

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

and somehow after this i am supposed to go back to reading about a joint debt commission thing. fjekla;jfklj;l. not possible. :D

apropos of nothing i once wrote a matt/mo librarysex fic called in the stacks. XD XD XD long time ago. this is better.

LOVE!

Dean/5.04!Cas - Gone Too Long 1/2

[misachan.livejournal.com]

It had been pouring for over half an hour before Dean realized no one at the camp could remember the last time they'd seen Cas. He checked the cabin – no dice there – and got into his other self's face about why no one was looking.

Dean couldn't believe his ears when his counterpart's reaction was to ask, "Why should we?"

He felt his fingers twitch and told himself he could not strangle his incredibly douchey future self. For some reason. "Because he's missing."

Other Dean shrugged. "Yeah, he does that. Look, we can't send out the troops every time Cas wanders off, we'd never do anything else." He took a swig from the open bottle of Jack on the table. "You're so worried, go yourself. I've got enough to do."

The memory of belting himself right across the jaw for that kept Dean warm while he looked. He finally found Cas behind one of the dilapidated cabins at the edge of the camp, sitting on the ground with his back to wall, his eyes closed and face turned toward the sky. Dean rushed over but before he even got close enough to touch him Cas smiled. "Hello, Dean."

"Jesus, Cas, get up. You can't be out here in this...."

Cas laughed, the jagged wrongness of the sound going straight to Dean's spine. "Dean, despite what everyone's probably told you I'm not actually so messed up that I don't know to come in from the rain. I like it out here." He opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, one eyebrow raised. "You gonna stare at me forever or are you gonna sit?" Dean sat beside him, cold mud squelching beneath him. "Always did like the rain," Cas said. "It's...vital. It makes you alive. Makes you clean." He shrugged. "Well, it would if it wasn't polluted like this, anyway."

It was hard to not stare at this Cas. He kept trying to find his Cas (and when the hell had he started thinking like that, ,his Cas?) hiding in this other one's rough edges, wondering when that shift had happened and why he hadn't done anything about it.

"You didn't do this, Dean." Dean blinked, not understanding at first, and Cas shook his head. "This," he said, gesturing at himself. "Not your fault."

"Didn't do anything to stop it, did I?"

"Fuck." Cas pulled his legs up to his chest and pressed his face against his knees. "Dean, quit looking at me like I'm some puppy you kicked. No wonder you used to bitch so much when Sam pulled this on you."

Maybe so, but Dean still thought the rain wasn't cold enough for Cas to be shaking this much. "Dude. You okay?"

Cas nodded. "Coming down a bit. I'll be good once the oxy kicks in." He looked at Dean and grinned, his head still resting on his knees. "You should see the look on your face. I forgot what it was like when you gave a shit." He looked back up at the sky, rain plastering his hair back and flowing down his face in rivulets. "How long do you have here before Zachariah decides you've learned your lesson?"

"Three days. Well, three then, more like one and a half now."

Cas took a long pull from the vodka bottle beside him. "Do me a favor then?"

Dean blinked. "Sure. Shoot."

"When you meet back up with the other me, I need you to give him a message." Dean nodded, ready to remember whatever prophecy or wisdom Cas wanted him to take back to the past.

So Dean was entirely unprepared for Cas to lunge forward and kiss him. When on pure instinct he opened his mouth to the kiss Cas shuddered and pressed closer, his hands cold and trembling to the point that Dean pressed his own over them. Cas finally pulled back like someone had a gun to his head, breaking the kiss with a desperate little whimper that gave Dean the horrible impression that Cas was about to cry. "Just..." he started, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat and got back under control. "Tell him not to wait so damn long to do that this time around."

Re: Dean/5.04!Cas - Gone Too Long 2/2

[misachan.livejournal.com]

Dean would have sworn on everything he'd ever loved that he'd had no idea it would have even occurred to Castiel to want to do this. And then in an instant it seemed ludicrous that he couldn't have known; so many things fell into place that Dean felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. "Cas...."

"I wanted you to kiss me that night before we faced Raphael," Cas said, his voice shaking and fragile. "Do you remember, Dean?" Dean flashed back to laughing his ass off outside that brothel, clapping one arm around Cas' shoulders. He remembered Cas had smiled at him and Dean didn't understand why he hadn't grabbed Cas by that stupid coat of his and kissed him then and there. "Why didn't you kiss me then?"

Dean shushed him gently, brushing his sodden hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, man," Dean whispered, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "I didn't know, Cas, swear to God I didn't." Cas shivered and Dean pulled him closer, running his hands over Cas' bare arms to try to warm him up. "I didn't know," he repeated before before kissing him again, long and slow and deep this time. Cas opened to the kiss like a drowning man finding a breath of air, his hands in Dean's hair and trying to get under his clothes; Dean tasted rain and booze and the bitter tang of pills.

"I missed you," Cas whispered between breaths. "I missed this and I missed you. I wish you were still you." Dean made soothing sounds as Cas shook against him; he slid one hand past Cas' waistband and over his too-sharp hipbone, wondering if Cas had always been this thin under all those clothes. "I missed you and you're leaving again."

"Shh," Dean said, kissing him to cut that off. "I'm here now, okay? I'm here right now." Cas nodded, nipping at Dean's lower lip and moaning as Dean brushed his hand over his ribs. Dean let Cas pull him down into the mud, Cas pressing against him like the world would end if this stopped. Dean slid Cas' shirt up and kissed his way up his stomach, feeling Cas arch up and writhe beneath him. Dean couldn't fix any of this. He couldn't change his other self back to being human instead of a tin soldier, he couldn't bring back Sam or fix this world or put Cas back together from the broken thing he'd become.

The rain was cold against his bare skin as Cas pulled his shirt up and off, discarding it into the mud. Dean couldn't fix it but he could make it better. Cas shuddered and groaned as Dean kissed his neck, his hands tight in Dean's hair as Dean sucked on the wet skin at the hollow of his throat. He felt the vibration as Cas whispered his name over and over, Dean, Dean, Dean.

For just a little while, Dean knew he could make this better.

Turn of Events Part 1

[bballgirl3022.livejournal.com]

I’m sorry for the significant lack of kissing in this ficlet.

The celebratory drinks were Mike’s idea. Harvey would have been perfectly happy to head home and sip his expensive scotch and make sure he was as prepared as possible for tomorrow’s client meeting, but Mike’s puppy dog eyes and dejected expression had poked at some sentiment that Harvey preferred to keep buried. So reluctantly Harvey agreed.

He hadn’t expected it to be like this though, for Mike not to be the drunk frat boy that Harvey had witnessed a few weeks previous. His associate was surprisingly pleasant company and (not surprisingly) knowledgeable about plenty of topics to keep the conversation flowing while keeping Harvey’s interest. It was pleasant to get to know Mike outside of work where Mike was busy caring all over Harvey’s hard earned clients; Mike was still as passionate about people it was just easier to accept when his associate wasn’t messing things up.

Harvey knew it was time to leave when he could feel warmth in his
belly and spent more time focusing on Mike’s mouth than actually listening to what the kid was saying. His fixation was annoying at best and possibly career ruining at worst. And thus he beat a hasty retreat before Harvey’s alcohol addled mind thought of better uses for those lush lips.

Mike (big brain and all) was clearly not all that apt at reading between the lines because Harvey wanted to leave alone. He didn’t want to be tempted by Mike once they weren’t in public because it was unlikely that Harvey would be able to contain himself. But Mike followed behind Harvey like the good boy he was (at least that bit of training wouldn’t be undone).

The few sprinkles of rain from early that day had turned into a downpour, one that drenched the two within a matter of minutes as they waited for their ride. His associate seemed to be enjoying what Harvey found to be an unfortunate circumstance on a near perfect day. Harvey would pout, but that was unbecoming of a man with his reputation. He could just make the best of the situation.

So he watched. Watched how Mike looked so incredibly young and more innocent than should be allowed in one person. Noticed how the water darkened Mike’s hair and ran enticingly down smooth, pale skin until it hit the roughness of his stubble. And then he turned and Harvey examined the emotion that played across his features when Mike found himself the object of Harvey’s scrutiny.

Re: Turn of Events Part 2

[bballgirl3022.livejournal.com]

It was easier to identify the dilation of the younger man’s pupils the closer Harvey got to him. And Mike, for what it was worth, didn’t skitter away like a frightened lamb being confronted by a hungry lion. He merely blinked and stood perfectly still as Harvey appraised what a lovely, little sheep he had ensnared before he pounced and sampled his prey for the first time.

Mike tasted like rain and beer and something else Harvey would identify if he had more time or was a more patient man. But as it was he was overwhelmed with sensations of kissing Mike. His associate’s warm body, happy hums and needy whimpers made it easy to ignore the part of his brain saying ‘stop’ and ‘this will end badly.’ He would much rather listen to the ‘this is really nice’ and ‘bring him home’.

Harvey liked that section of his brain best, and thus kept trying to inhale Mike’s essence through his mouth while manipulating his body in to a position that allowed Harvey to feel as much of Mike’s heat as possible all the while ‘why didn’t he try this sooner’ played on repeat in his brain.

A particularly loud whimper from Harvey tugging a little too harshly on Mike’s hair caused him to break for air. They didn’t want to cause a scene. Because as much as Harvey loved being the center of attention he’d come to notice he was quite possessive of his new associate and if Mike was going to make those wonderful noises, then they were going to be falling on Harvey’s ears alone.

He steered Mike toward the car that had just arrived for him, then followed him inside and told Ray to take them home. Harvey ignored Ray’s shocked look in favor of pressing his side against Mike’s and soaking up reassurance that this wasn’t just some spur of the moment idea. He couldn’t screw up the one good working relationship he had just because it came in a pretty package. Mike was radiating this calmness and Harvey could only trust he’d thought this through because this mess up wasn’t one that could easily be fixed by Harvey’s charm.

They would have to work on that trust thing Mike had always been complaining about. ‘Better late than never’ was all he could think before deciding what would be the fastest way to get Mike out of those wet clothes.