Fic: It must have been moonglow (Dean/Castiel)

[thegrrrl2002]

eretria was having a bad day, so I wrote a little comment ficlet to try and cheer her up. Dean/Castiel, ~700 words. Rated PG.



Castiel plucks the bottle from Dean's hand, raises it to his lips and swallows.

"Hey," Dean complains. He stumbles in the dark and bumps against Castiel. "Remember what happened last time you were on a bender," he admonishes, reaching for the bottle.

"I am not bent." Castiel holds the bottle out of Dean's reach, swaying gently. "At least not yet."

“Good for you.” Dean curls his fingers around the edge of Castiel’s coat and tugs him closer. “Give it,” he demands, and reaches once again for the bottle.

Castiel moves back, dragging Dean with him and Dean doesn’t let go and okay, maybe that was a mistake because Castiel’s back hits the Impala and Dean’s chest hits Castiel’s and they’re nose to nose and Dean can see the glint of Castiel’s eyes in the moonlight.

“Whoa,” Dean says. “Isn’t this romantic.”

Castiel blinks and Dean swears he feels eyelashes against his cheek. “It is?”

“No,” Dean says with a laugh, stepping back, away Castiel’s warm, solid body.

Lifting the bottle to his lips, Castiel drinks again. He’s propped against the car, legs spread, head tilted back and his throat gleaming white—

Dean shakes his head. “I think I’m kind of bent,” he admits, because his brain is going really weird places right now. When Castiel lowers the bottle Dean snatches it from him and takes a long pull from it. The whiskey goes down smooth but it doesn’t help Dean shake the need to find out if the skin on Castiel’s throat feels as smooth as it looks. “Crazy stuff,” he says randomly.

“No, I believe it is merely whiskey.” Castiel says.

“Yup.” Dean holds the bottle up to look at it, and Castiel tries to take it from him but Dean won’t let go and then Castiel is all up in Dean’s space again, scowling. “All right, all right. Damn you’re a cranky drunk.”

“I am not yet drunk,” Castiel informs him. He’s swaying again, and it’s making Dean dizzy.

Dean clamps a hand to Castiel’s shoulder. “Sure you’re not.”

Castiel lets out a very human-sounding “hummph” and Dean grins. He gives Castiel a little shake. “Come on, we should head back.”

“To where?”

“The motel.” Dean steps back and reaches for his keys, looks at his impala and hesitates. “I think we’d better walk.” He pats the hood of his car. “Later, baby.”

Castiel drains the bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good. We will get more whiskey.”

Dean peers down the deserted road. No lights, no stores. “No, we won’t.”

“But Dean,” Castiel implores. “This one is empty.”

“Do you see any liquor stores?”

“Then we will find one.” Castiel reaches toward Dean’s forehead with two fingers.

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand, pulling it down. “No, no way.”

“Dean--”

“I am not letting you zap us off somewhere with you when you’re drunk. God knows where we’ll end up.”

Castiel tries to pull his hand free but Dean hangs on, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s wrist. Castiel stumbles--or maybe it’s Dean who loses his footing, Dean’s not sure--but somehow he ends up with a hand tangled in Castiel’s coat once again, his other hand gripping Castiel’s tightly and now he’s close enough to smell Castiel’s whiskey-soaked breath.

“Great, now we’re holding hands,” Dean says. All this touching is starting to piss him off.

Castiel looks down at their joined hands. “Is it romantic?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean snaps. Castiel is asking too many stupid questions. “This is.” And Dean kisses him. It’s not a nice kiss, Dean puts as much attitude as he can into it, pushing in, trying to make Castiel step back because damn it, he doesn’t want to be kissing Castiel, and yet, here he is. Kissing a stupid friggin’ angel.

Castiel doesn’t move, doesn’t step back. He stays anchored in place as he wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and kisses Dean back with surprising sweetness, a hand gently cupping Dean’s face and suddenly Dean feels light-headed, he can’t breathe, he can’t even think of why he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Fine, be that way,” Dean growls against Castiel’s cheek, and kisses Castiel some more.