Wednesday, 10/13/2010 - Dawn

[jlsigman.livejournal.com]

Good morning, y'all! My name is jlsigman, and I'm your guest hostess for the week who is up way too early this morning thanks to a 6 month old kitten who loves the prompt. :-p

Today's prompt is: dawn. That wonderful time before the sun comes up. That terrible time when the night ends. Which way is it seen?

As always, please keep the following few rules in mind:
- No more than five prompts in a row, and no more than three per fandom. Remember, as soon as someone takes on one of your prompts, you can pop another.
- No spoilers in your prompts for at least seven days after air; if there are spoilers in your fic, warn in bold in the subject line and leave at least three spaces.
- As a former codeslinger, I beg you to please do be kind to our codemonkeys and format your prompts correctly, like so:

Any, any/any, Now started another long day
Final Fantasy XIII, Snow/Serah, Their first dawn together on Pulse
Godspeaker trilogy, Rhian/Alasdair, The dawn hid the damage from the invasion

tag=dawn

Comments

Fill

[sansdatelimite.livejournal.com]

--

Castiel gives Dean what he wants. Everything from the slice of mixed berry pie to the hungry kisses outside of a seedy bar, from a hex bag to protect him from witches to desperate sex in the back of the Impala, from a book on ancient rituals of some obscure Native American tribe to quick and dirty blowjobs on Bobby’s back porch. He lets Dean take whatever he wants, whether it’s simple and innocent or will scar Sam for the rest of his life.

So Dean takes and takes and takes, because that’s all he knows how to do. He lets Castiel bury himself inside of Dean, lets the angel kiss and mark his skin, but it’s for his own twisted benefit. He wants to feel the burn, the ache of something good. He wants to feel wanted, loved. He wants to feel like Castiel still cares even though they haven’t talked in a year, even though the angel left him.

Castiel is always leaving him. Dean’s sure there is something ironic about that. That’s really the only thing Dean is sure about these days. There’s something wrong with Sam, isn’t even sure if it is still Sam. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t love Lisa like she deserves. He doesn’t know if he’ll live to see tomorrow and he doesn’t know when his heart started pounding in his chest every time Castiel wills himself away in the cover of night, when he thinks Dean has fallen asleep. He doesn’t know when he started being terrified of the thought of Castiel never returning.

Dean knows what he wants, he always has. Yeah, the list has changed over the years, but it’s always quintessentially the same; he wants his brother, he wants a family, he wants to spend the rest of his life having amazing sex with Castiel and he maybe wants to settle down with a house and a German Sheppard because he’s always kind of wanted a dog.

What Dean needs though, he doesn’t know how to ask for. He spends weeks writhing beneath Castiel in the dark, clutching at him desperately hoping the angel with just take the Goddamn hint already because Dean doesn’t think he can ask for this. He’s too scared the answer will be “no.” As awesome as it is to feel the stretch and burn of Castiel inside of him, the slick, sweaty slide of skin on skin and the demanding surge of kisses – it’s just not enough.

No matter how many times Dean drifts off with his head on Castiel’s lap or his fingers curled in a vice like grip around the angel’s wrist, Castiel always leaves. He leaves Dean cold and naked and alone and when he comes back he pretends like none of it had happened, like he hadn’t abandoned Dean in the dark like he has been doing for an eternity, like he always does.

What Dean wants quells in importance to what Dean needs, but Dean can’t ask and he won’t ask, so he puts off falling asleep for as long as he can. He likes the way Castiel looks with his eyelashes brushing his cheeks, dark blue eyes half lidded when the sun shines through with morning’s first light. He likes the way Castiel’s fingers card through his hair or trace patterns on Dean’s warm skin. Mostly, he likes the way it feels to have someone in bed with him, someone who loves him despite his faults, someone who knows him inside and out and still comes back to him.

Dean can’t ask Castiel to say, but every time Castiel brushes his lips against Dean’s cheeks or forehead or lips or shoulders – wherever is closest, really – and Dean fails to reach out, to ask him to stay, he tries to convince himself that tomorrow he will. Tomorrow he’ll drag Castiel back against him and he’ll get to see the morning light wash over Castiel, his expression of tender love and not of quiet regret.

Tomorrow, Dean tells himself, and one of these days, he’s really going to mean it.

Re: Fill

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

honey. you broke me with this. it's beautiful and sexy and dark and so full of *need*. I just love it. <3

Re: Fill

[sansdatelimite.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it, bb. <3

Re: Fill

[mulder200.livejournal.com]

Oh Dean! You always have to make everything so hard for yourself.

Re: Fill

[sansdatelimite.livejournal.com]

He really, really does. <3

Thank you!

Re: Fill

[stfu-pwentzz.livejournal.com]

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU ♥

I am a glutton for punishment but that's exactly what I wanted. You're the best ^_^

Re: Fill

[sansdatelimite.livejournal.com]

I'm very, very glad you enjoyed this. <3

Re: Fill

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

OMGz made of win. :DDDDD