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Not much, a little thing. My apologies.
Title: Dreams
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Gabriel
Summary: Tiny drabble of indeterminate timing. Castiel dreams, and wakes.
Wordcount: 198
Disclaimers: Not mine
Title: Dreams
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Gabriel
Summary: Tiny drabble of indeterminate timing. Castiel dreams, and wakes.
Wordcount: 198
Disclaimers: Not mine
Dreams
There were times he dreamed that someone caught him as he fell. Times he dreamed of wings that filled the horizon, reaching out to catch him in a rush of feathers as his Grace bled away and flung him to the earth. Dreamed of the rustling and the softness and the strength and the power, holding him at his weakest, bearing him up. There were times Castiel dreamed of that, and times too when he knew it was not dreams, but the touch of distant memory.
And in those dreams, in that soft, white space beyond waking, he dreamed those dream-wings smelled of things no angel's wings could. He dreamed they smelled of peppermint candy, the tickle in the back of a throat he'd never had. And dreaming, he smiled, because it only made sense.
The Gabriel of his dreams smelled of things no angel ever had, because when Castiel woke the hair that tickled his nose and whispered its soft scent through his dreams would be more than a memory, and the Gabriel curled against his chest would be more than a dream.
And the wings, that rustled softly around them both, would always catch him if he fell.
There were times he dreamed that someone caught him as he fell. Times he dreamed of wings that filled the horizon, reaching out to catch him in a rush of feathers as his Grace bled away and flung him to the earth. Dreamed of the rustling and the softness and the strength and the power, holding him at his weakest, bearing him up. There were times Castiel dreamed of that, and times too when he knew it was not dreams, but the touch of distant memory.
And in those dreams, in that soft, white space beyond waking, he dreamed those dream-wings smelled of things no angel's wings could. He dreamed they smelled of peppermint candy, the tickle in the back of a throat he'd never had. And dreaming, he smiled, because it only made sense.
The Gabriel of his dreams smelled of things no angel ever had, because when Castiel woke the hair that tickled his nose and whispered its soft scent through his dreams would be more than a memory, and the Gabriel curled against his chest would be more than a dream.
And the wings, that rustled softly around them both, would always catch him if he fell.
