Men of Letters Destiel AU: Chapter 6 Sneak Peek
catch up here: Just like Heaven (strange as angels) - Chapter 1 - Supernatural (TV 2005) - NoahWoah69 [Archive of Our Own]
Looking down to his plate then, Dean realises he wasnât a single bit hungry. His mouth felt itself still touching Castielâs wrist. He feels his body being filled up with the angelic grace. Dean licks his lips unconsciously. There was a mug of coffee standing before Dean and a single piece of bread laying on the plate, abandoned. It looked like always.
John sits down next to Dean. It speeds up his heart without even having to take a sip of the brown caffeine beforehand. Dean wants to stay calm, he doesnât even flinch when his father found a comfortable position to sit in after so much readjusting on his chair.
Dean, in his nervousness, reaches to grab the mug and bury his face in it. What if his father knew everything? He puts his lips to the mug and when he finally wasnât scared anymore that he was accidentally drinking lava that would burn out his throat again, he spit the coffee out in a gasp. It was ice cold. Not that he was fussy about that, he just didnât expect that a single bit and nor did the poor guy who he spit on.
It was silent in the room of Men of Letters besides heavy, scared panting of Dean. It set off another panic attack in remembrance of Hell. He tries to ground himself, when another sound filled the room; laughter. Hearty laughter from the man next to him. It was the only thing reaching his clouded mind that was otherwise merely filled with screams.
It was the first time in forty decades that the silent rule has been broken during breakfast, âDrink up, Dean. Please. Itâs yours.â, John tells him, amused watching his son choke on air and coffee.
Everyone was shocked to their cores hearing someone talk. Does that mean, they too, could say something? The man that got drenched in cold coffee certainly believed that he could bend the rules too, if John did. He stood up to leave for the kitchen to clean himself.
âDid anyone tell you, you could leave, Markham?â, John sternly looks at him, he lost his laughter somewhere along looking from his panicked son to him. Markham was one of the five guys that refused to participate in the reaper summoning. He was still later briefed what had happened, he looks John up and down, âI told myself.â, he keeps on walking.
John scoffs, âPlease. From nothing, comes nothing.â, he says in Latin. Markham frowns, âIâm not listening to you anymore.â, he declares, coffee dripping off his uniform. Both men ignored the thud next to them, that came from Dean. He had stomped his foot on the ground to feel it beneath him, to know it wasnât burning hot.
âThen, you may leave and never come back.â, John moves on, he turns back to his son, patting him on his back, as if he wanted to help him cough out the coffee he accidentally inhaled, âAnd you, Dean. I donât want to find your dirty dishes no where laying around.â, then he shakes his head with a smile on his face again and continues eating, while Markham was walking past everyone to his room to pack up.
Dean manages to calm down, though his earlobes were burning up. He looks at the cold mug. He grabs it again. He feels eyes on him. Dean puts it to his lips and gulps every last drop down without stopping.
John stays quiet, but as he watches, he forgets to breathe. He sees Deanâs eyes flicker. There was something in them that he didnât like. John bites on his lip, he watches his sonâs Adam's apple bop up with each more swallow. He canât take his eyes off of him, even when the liquid spills past his mouth and it runs down his mouth by the sides until it drops onto Deanâs jeans.
John follows the droplets and looking at the lower half of his sonâs body, he coincidentally notices something elseâdirty shoes. His jaw tenses as his eyes flick up again. Dean dramatically gasps for air, he loudly places the mug on the table, it echoes through the corridors. He starts eating his bread, like nothing ever happened. He doesnât even wipe away the coffee in his face, it kept dripping.
