tiptoe39 | Pearl String of Fics: First Kisses In the Rain

*smish* Thank you do much. It's been ages since I wrote J2

Thanks for inspiring me :)

*snuggles*

CRYING FOREVER ;_;

"Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin twisted in his saddle, before dismounting flashing Arthur a wide eyed, bemused look. "I didn't say anything!"

"Your face said it for you," Arthur blinked rain out of his eyes, the action taking away from the heat of his glare. "You have 'I told you so' written all over it."

"Well," Merlin allowed, flashing Arthur a pleased grin, and Arthur took some pleasure in the fact that Merlin's boot sank into the mud, causing his manservant to unbalance, arms flailing.

Arthur reached over, grabbing a fistful of Merlin's tunic to keep him from falling into the mud, and therefore saving himself from having to hear the incessant whining all the way back.

He misjudged himself, and tugged harder than necessary, causing Merlin to stumble against him, soaked and shivering, blue eyes wide under wet, clumped lashes, panting hot air over Arthur's lips.

"Ah," Merlin started. "I-"

Arthur tilted his head, and kissed Merlin, quick and chaste, before his companion could say anything more to embarrass himself. To his utter surprise, Merlin responded, arms wrapping around Arthur, mouth opening in a pleasant display of willingness.

They kissed for a few moments, light but uncomplicated, and Arthur felt heat seeping into his skin where Merlin's hands wandered.

He was too busy focusing on the full, kiss-swollen lips beneath his own to notice the hint of gold in Merlin's eyes, or how the rain seemingly ceased to fall around them.

This was so beautiful. I love it! <3

YES. THIS. THIS IS WHAT THIS MEME WAS MISSING.

FJKLA;KFJ. I LOVE YOU MOOSEY.

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.

Edited 2011-09-08 02:56 (UTC)

Ask, and ye shall Mer

~~bitch~~

Great minds, BB!

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.

<3333 My pleasure!

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

I had to take you to the edge first. XD

Yikes, I wrote Merthur for the first time.
Feels nice!

PS - And I love you in return! ;)

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.

“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...~~

"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.

Oh my god your first time though i don't believe you you're a liar write more

I think I shall!

OH GOD YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!

omg, thank you so much!! i adored your drabble!(it was simply.. PERFECT!) i am really *happy* you like this!! <3 I love write but I must improve my english (among other things) really really thanks for the encouragement, you are very sweet! :D

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.”

ADORBS!

I read that in your voice. That's hot! ;)

I've been touched by the Merthur muse!

Pearl String of Fics: First Kisses In the Rain

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Re: Kali/Gabriel

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Sam/Jess

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Crowley/Aziraphale

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I couldn't resist. hides

Re: Sam/Jess

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Pearl String of Fics: First Kisses In the Rain

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Re: Kali/Gabriel

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Sam/Jess

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Crowley/Aziraphale

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I couldn't resist. *hides*

Re: Sam/Jess

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I couldn't resist. hides