Tony Stark · @darksilvercat
30th Aug 2010 from Twitlonger
Somewhat belated twitfic for @amylane67 as part of @cloudyjenn's Twitfic Exchange. The prompt was 'first kisses', I hope you like it!
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Dean Winchester had never really thought about what his first kiss with Castiel might be like. Not that he hadn’t thought there would be a first kiss - he knew it would happen, that it was only a matter of time. But he was a red-blooded male after all, so when he imagined Castiel’s mouth and his mouth in the same daydream, they were usually engaged in far more adventurous activities.
If he had thought about it though, he’d probably have thought about it happening when Castiel saves his ass during a hunt gone wrong. Cas would appear from nowhere and pull him round a corner, press his hand over Dean’s mouth and stand close enough that Dean can feel the buttons of Castiel’s coat through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He would have thought that Castiel would draw him even closer, moulding their bodies together and letting his hand drop from Dean’s mouth to his shoulder, only to then curl it round the back of his neck.
Dean would be the one to make the move in this scenario, fisting his hands in Cas’ coat and closing what little distance remained between them in order to press his lips against Castiel’s. Adrenaline would be rushing through him, partly from the hunt and partly from the sensation of Castiel’s body pulled flush against his, and they’d kiss long and desperate like they expected to be parted at any moment - which would be entirely possible given the circumstances. It would be over in a matter of seconds, but then they’d kill the bad guys and rush back to the motel room in order to pick right back up where they left off.
Or maybe he would have imagined it happening after a similar hunt, when Dean has been a little too reckless or accidentally put himself in harm’s way. Cas would be angry at Dean for taking a risk, and they’d argue, Cas demanding that Dean be more careful, Dean stubbornly maintaining that the plan was good, and hey, he was fine so obviously he was right. This time, Cas would be the one to initiate the kiss, seizing Dean by his jacket and yanking him forward, kissing him hard and fast, and things would only get better from there.
Then again, maybe he might have thought it would happen when he takes Cas to a local bar to teach him all about human interaction - or hustling pool, whatever. They’d have a few drinks - or maybe they wouldn’t go out at all, and instead end up sharing a few beers and watching a movie in Dean’s motel room. Either way, Cas would drink Dean under the table, and when they were both pleasantly tipsy and Dean was explaining why Bruce Willis was such a badass, or teaching Cas how to hold a pool cue, their eyes would meet and hold. Maybe they’d be sitting side by side on the bed and Dean would lean in to steal his first kiss, quick and fleeting before he lost his nerve. Or maybe Dean would be pressed up against Cas, positioning him to take a shot, and Cas would turn his head and drop the cue in order to pull Dean’s face closer and seal their mouths together, heedless of the people around them.
Perhaps in one of Dean’s kinkier daydreams, he might even have imagined falling under the spell of a witch or a succubus. Cas would be there for him - or maybe Cas would be the one affected - and the first kiss would be all desperate need and hunger, quickly morphing into a second, a third, a fourth.
The point is, whether Dean had thought about this kiss or not, he never would have imagined it to happen the way it did.
Because it happened like this.
It happened during a hunt. An angry spirit, haunting an abandoned ranch house, came out of nowhere and pushed Dean down the stairs. Cas vanished from the top of the stairs and reappeared halfway down to catch Dean, and Dean barrelled into him, and because Cas was making a conscious effort to not be as solid as steel - because hitting something as solid as steel would be every bit as harmful to Dean as falling down an entire flight of stairs - they both fell. Cas took the worst of the impact when they landed, Cas flat on his back and Dean sprawled over him, and their mouths just sort of... together.
That was when Dean thought about all the ways he might have expected this to happen, and decided he couldn’t care less that in comparison this was awkward and undignified and kind of an accident. Cas must have reached the same conclusion, because they moved at the same time, lips parting slightly, moving to line their mouths up properly, and then they were <i>kissing</i>, really kissing for the first time.
Nothing Dean could have imagined would even come close to how it felt to finally have Cas’ mouth against his, Cas’ hands in his hair, Cas’ body warm and solid beneath him.
Of course, if Dean were ever to retell the story himself, he wouldn’t say that he fell on Cas’ lips. In Dean’s story, they’d land mere inches apart and there’d be a moment of unbearable sexual tension before they acted. Or he’d neglect to admit that some crotchety old ghost managed to toss him down the stairs in the first place, and instead claim that he or Cas had pulled the other out of harm’s way. He’d say they’d been so close, and running so high on adrenaline that kissing had seemed like the natural thing to do. He’d certainly never admit that in truth, he didn’t care when it happened, or how, only that it happened.
And after that <i>first</i> first kiss there was the first kiss goodnight and the first kiss hello. The first post-coital kiss - and before that, the first pre-coital and mid-coital, all of which were particular favourites of Dean’s. The first ‘good morning’ kiss, the first angry kiss, the first ‘I’m sorry’ kiss and the first subject changing kiss.
But more important than any of those were the many kisses that weren’t a first for anything. The fact that Dean could kiss Castiel just for the sake of kissing him, and it would still feel new and exciting every single time.