Destiel spice prompt! This is how it works: you can write or draw about it, needs to feature the location and situation and focus on the body part. Can be explicit or highly suggestive, a fic drabble or a meta/headcanon post. Let's have fun!
Location: well-worn mattress
Situation: a not very good morning
If youre wondering where ive been all day, ive been writing this i hope you enjoy!!
Old Mattress, New Discoveries
Dean tugs on his old, reliable sweat-pants, stumbling as he does so from trying not to bend his lower back to get them up. He just barely catches himself on the dresser, which decides to be all dramatic about it and toss a bunch of Dean's pack-rat crud all over the floor.
Yes, he had a cereal bowl sitting there, sue him. It cracks into three big pieces as a pile of mail slips onto the hardwood below in that phenomenally irritating way that paper and envelopes are wont to do.
"God fucking dammit," he growls at the offending clutter. He is in no position to be bending in any capacity to pick all that shit up right now. All he wanted was to go chug a concerning amount of ibuprofen and get back to the mattress from hell.
"Dean?" His long-term roommate, Cas, calls through his thin door, "Are you all right?"
Dean foregoes a shirt, it's nothing Cas hasn't seen before. And, yeah, an impish part of Dean thrills at the idea that Cas might like the sight of his slightly thickened belly-situation. He's teased Cas in this way since before the guy even came out to him, but Cas has never shown any genuine interest. Never made a move. Shame.
"Yeah. Peachy." He crosses to the kitchen junk-drawer where they keep their communal O.T.C.s, and of course the one of the little pills slips from his grip and tumbles under the edge of the counter. Dean hangs his head a little too forcefully, sending zaps all through his spine and shoulders, making him noticeably wince.
"Is it your mattress again?" Cas asks, getting on his hands and knees without question to sieze the slippery bastard. Dean's heart races at the sight, despite his pain. Cas' broad, muscled back is bare as it rarely ever is. Those afternoons at the gym are clearly paying off, and Dean feels a nasty pang of jealousy for the guys who get to take Cas home. Who get to run their hands over that dewy, sun-bronze skin. The guys who might know what it's like to taste Castiel and be tasted and desired in return—
This decade-long crush on his roommate is getting ridiculous.
It's made all the worse when Cas sits back on his heels, peers up at him with those big, shiny, blue eyes that have that still-sleepy puff to them that Cas always gets this early. The ibuprofen pinched between his long, thick fingertips, awaiting Dean's open palm.
