![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Pearl String of Fics: First Kisses In the Rain
So inspired partly by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
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 :)
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 :)
um... so this popped in my head...
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...
Re: um... so this popped in my head...
Re: um... so this popped in my head...