It's In Your Eyes

I'm Not Dean Winchester

Dean's POV -

I let my eyes drop shut and revel in the little gasp he takes in against my lips as they touch. I feel them graze past each other, so delicate, so perfect, but I'm still holding back.

And then my fingertips are on fire, as he takes my hand and brings it up to his cheek. It doesn't take me long to take the hint, the way my palm moulds so neatly to the curve of his jaw, I know what to do. Sliding my hand up and round his neck, balling it up into a fist in his hair. He damn near whimpers.

And I forget myself.

In that moment. That split second, the chill trapped in my spine along with a moan and a tremor, I close the tiny space between us.

I forget my military upbringing. My drill Sargent father with his straightlaced views. I won't think of him until later... I forget everything to do with myself and who I perceive Dean Winchester to be. Because I can't capture a description in my mind as everything else around me falls away and there's just him.

Castiel, with his feather soft lips and thick black eyelashes, laced together and resting in a delicate web on my cheek. He's all I know in this moment and that's enough.

But the moment is short. Too short. What do I do with this brief jump outside of the reality I know.

And how the hell do I find it again...

Cas's POV -

The second he moves away I could kick myself. A bad fucking idea, that's what this was. My worst one yet, and I've don't some reckless shit before...

Every second that he was against me felt perfect, was perfect. Almost perfect...

The look in his eyes now, that dart past me right before he moves away, through that damn open window, snatches all that bliss back. Or at least cut off the supply. I don't move for a moment just so I can gather up every last sensation left on my skin and every last speck of pleasure I can. Then I go back inside.

There's a bump on Dean's bed and I swallow my awful feeling of guilt and sorrow as I move past, pausing briefly at the foot to look at his shadow. It pulls in on itself tighter and I move on, slipping under my own covers silently.

The second I'm lying on my back, the ceiling starring me down, my mind wanders back, drags be back. But I can't find the will to fight it, tracing a finger lightly across my subtle cupids bow when I recall how his mouth had felt. Subtle, unlike his deep, masterfully sculpted one. Even if I should forget it happened, act like it didn't tomorrow, not tonight. Why can't I remember, just for me?

I roll onto my side and stare forward into the still form opposite me. For a second I swear I see the glint of moonlight reflecting off something, reflecting off green and white eyes. But then nothing but a shadow, and I can't ever be sure.

But I can always imagine, and hope...