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morganoconner
Title: Some Fundamental Thing
Rating: Light R
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Gabriel
Summary: Castiel prefers details. He shows Gabriel
Wordcount: 446
Notes/Warnings: For prompts: Bonds and Wings/Tentacles/Tails. Um. Given my usual talent with anything approaching pr0n ... probably not very good. Just to warn you.
Disclaimer: Not mine
morganoconner Title: Some Fundamental Thing
Rating: Light R
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Gabriel
Summary: Castiel prefers details. He shows Gabriel
Wordcount: 446
Notes/Warnings: For prompts: Bonds and Wings/Tentacles/Tails. Um. Given my usual talent with anything approaching pr0n ... probably not very good. Just to warn you.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Some Fundamental Thing
Castiel prefers details. He has lost the grand scheme of things so many times, been assaulted by uncertainty, his own and others', so very often. He has lived, and died, for causes that even now he is not fully sure have meaning, and through all of it, the world yet remains uncertain.
He prefers details. He prefers this act, this choice, this person. To defend this person, to attack that cause, not because it serves a higher purpose, but because some fundamental thing inside him tells him that he must. He must.
He must reach out to this brother. He must touch him. He must trail fingers through the feathers, endless feathers, endless wings. He must touch them with hands and fingers and feathers all his own. He must find, at the base of each pale, tawny shaft, the sensitive point that pulls gasp after gasp from the archangel beneath him.
He must chase those breaths, those little sounds, must pull his brother close and touch that mobile face. Must learn it, must understand it, must trace it the way he traces blood upon the walls, must find the source and center of its purpose. He must look into the vast confusion in Gabriel's gaze, must look upon the trembling hope, the vast bleakness of a lurking despair, and trace his fingers over the tracks of tears still unshed.
He must press his lips so softly to Gabriel's. Not because he knows what it means, but because that fundamental thing demands it. He must press his grace as close as it may go, must wrap the vastness of his brother in as much of his warmth as he can bring to bear. He must curl this borrowed body around the smaller one in his arms, must hold it close, must swallow the tremors as it shakes.
He must touch his brother's soul. So softly. So delicately. He must pull his brother close, one detail at a time, and know the fullness of him. Know the totality. He must reach out to Gabriel, must open himself and hold himself, and draw his brother close. Must bear the storm of Gabriel's terror, must bear the flood of his tears. Must bear the quivering beast of uncertainty that lies within an archangel's soul, his own soul, the soul of every angel now in this so uncertain world.
And in doing so, he must show Gabriel the details. This act, this choice, this person. He must show Gabriel that fundamental thing that lies inside. Must show him that, here, now, this angel at least is certain. This angel at least has chosen.
Because Gabriel is his brother. Because that fundamental thing, his soul, demands it.
Because he loves him. And is loved.
Castiel prefers details. He has lost the grand scheme of things so many times, been assaulted by uncertainty, his own and others', so very often. He has lived, and died, for causes that even now he is not fully sure have meaning, and through all of it, the world yet remains uncertain.
He prefers details. He prefers this act, this choice, this person. To defend this person, to attack that cause, not because it serves a higher purpose, but because some fundamental thing inside him tells him that he must. He must.
He must reach out to this brother. He must touch him. He must trail fingers through the feathers, endless feathers, endless wings. He must touch them with hands and fingers and feathers all his own. He must find, at the base of each pale, tawny shaft, the sensitive point that pulls gasp after gasp from the archangel beneath him.
He must chase those breaths, those little sounds, must pull his brother close and touch that mobile face. Must learn it, must understand it, must trace it the way he traces blood upon the walls, must find the source and center of its purpose. He must look into the vast confusion in Gabriel's gaze, must look upon the trembling hope, the vast bleakness of a lurking despair, and trace his fingers over the tracks of tears still unshed.
He must press his lips so softly to Gabriel's. Not because he knows what it means, but because that fundamental thing demands it. He must press his grace as close as it may go, must wrap the vastness of his brother in as much of his warmth as he can bring to bear. He must curl this borrowed body around the smaller one in his arms, must hold it close, must swallow the tremors as it shakes.
He must touch his brother's soul. So softly. So delicately. He must pull his brother close, one detail at a time, and know the fullness of him. Know the totality. He must reach out to Gabriel, must open himself and hold himself, and draw his brother close. Must bear the storm of Gabriel's terror, must bear the flood of his tears. Must bear the quivering beast of uncertainty that lies within an archangel's soul, his own soul, the soul of every angel now in this so uncertain world.
And in doing so, he must show Gabriel the details. This act, this choice, this person. He must show Gabriel that fundamental thing that lies inside. Must show him that, here, now, this angel at least is certain. This angel at least has chosen.
Because Gabriel is his brother. Because that fundamental thing, his soul, demands it.
Because he loves him. And is loved.
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