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Entry tags:
SPN: TLC
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Contains: References to sex
Rating: PG13
Summary: It's a hot day and Dean needs to work on the Impala. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
It's a fucking hot day. Dean's skin is shining with sweat, and his shirt -- which he stripped off ten minutes before, with a sigh of relief -- had been soaking wet, stuck to his skin. It's a stupid day to pick to work on the car, but at least it's a bit cooler than the day before, and there's a bit of a breeze, and they don't have to be on the road again for another couple of days.
Castiel is watching him. He probably has that little head tilt, that little spark of curiosity in his eyes. It makes Dean's skin prickle a little, not unpleasantly, because he's pretty sure Castiel is also quietly appreciating the view. "I should make you help me," he says, to break the thick silence. "My baby needs a lot of TLC."
"I believe your 'baby' would be better served by someone who knows what they're doing," Castiel says, and he actually sounds amused. He stands up though, comes over to stand beside Dean. If there's anything to tip people off to the fact that he isn't human, it's the fact that he's still wearing that damn trench coat, and he isn't even sweating. It's so unfair. He looks so... crisp and neat and cool, Dean almost feels like he's going to taint him somehow, mess him up.
A big part of him wants to, wants to shove Castiel against the hot metal side of the Impala and kiss him, kiss him on the mouth and the neck and the collarbones and down, kiss him till his mouth is swollen and he can hardly think, kiss him and touch him until he's aching, until all he can think about is Dean.
He traps Castiel up against the side of the car, grins at him. "I think you know how to do this."
Castiel smiles back, his hands coming up, one to cup the back of Dean's neck, the other on his hip. "I believe so."
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Contains: References to sex
Rating: PG13
Summary: It's a hot day and Dean needs to work on the Impala. For
comment_fic.It's a fucking hot day. Dean's skin is shining with sweat, and his shirt -- which he stripped off ten minutes before, with a sigh of relief -- had been soaking wet, stuck to his skin. It's a stupid day to pick to work on the car, but at least it's a bit cooler than the day before, and there's a bit of a breeze, and they don't have to be on the road again for another couple of days.
Castiel is watching him. He probably has that little head tilt, that little spark of curiosity in his eyes. It makes Dean's skin prickle a little, not unpleasantly, because he's pretty sure Castiel is also quietly appreciating the view. "I should make you help me," he says, to break the thick silence. "My baby needs a lot of TLC."
"I believe your 'baby' would be better served by someone who knows what they're doing," Castiel says, and he actually sounds amused. He stands up though, comes over to stand beside Dean. If there's anything to tip people off to the fact that he isn't human, it's the fact that he's still wearing that damn trench coat, and he isn't even sweating. It's so unfair. He looks so... crisp and neat and cool, Dean almost feels like he's going to taint him somehow, mess him up.
A big part of him wants to, wants to shove Castiel against the hot metal side of the Impala and kiss him, kiss him on the mouth and the neck and the collarbones and down, kiss him till his mouth is swollen and he can hardly think, kiss him and touch him until he's aching, until all he can think about is Dean.
He traps Castiel up against the side of the car, grins at him. "I think you know how to do this."
Castiel smiles back, his hands coming up, one to cup the back of Dean's neck, the other on his hip. "I believe so."