Flower Crowns Ficlet
(Apparently I wrote this a long time ago, when this blog first got off the ground. I don’t remember writing it, so this is probably the time to submit without fear. Much love.)
“You remember the first person you ever killed?”
“Come on Cas, no.”
Castiel pressed a sticky finger onto the side of Dean’s face. Dean flinched from the cold, but remained in place.
“Why are we doing this again?”
Castiel let out a small stream of air to get the glue tacky, then picked a dissected white heather petal from the bunch, pressing it to Dean’s temple and rocking his thumb back and forth. “I already answered that Dean.”
It became a rhythm, the rush of air and the wet sticky sound of the glue Castiel squeezed, the thump of the bottle as it hit the counter, the quiet fingering of the petals, the sound amplified when the petal met Dean’s toasted skin. Castiel’s fingers shook.
“Take a break Cas.”
“The artist never rests.” Dean let out a breathy chuckle. “What a load of shit.”
“The first person you ever saw die.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Truth or Dare, Dean. Answer the question or fuck me.”
There was a beat as Dean scrunched his eyebrows together. “Are you high again?”
Castiel pulled back from the flower arrangement on Dean’s face to look him full in the eye briefly, then placed a shaky hand on Dean’s neck. “You tell me.”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t shoot him. I didn’t even look at him. He went down and then I walked.”
“Off the field I guess. I don’t really remember.”
“Why didn’t you look at him?”
“I wanted my feet to hurt. That’s all I remember. And the blisters. The blisters were incredible.”
Castiel placed a final petal in his tear duct, which was glistening.
“Truth and Dare. You still have to fuck me.”