A/N: Just out of the blue. Hope you like :)
Pairings: Cas/Sam, Past Sabriel and Unrequited Destiel
Disclaimer: Not mine. :(
The first thing you notice when you kiss him is that the taste is wrong. It's still sweet but it's more like the first bite of a fresh apple rather than sickly like syrup. It's bearable though; enough that you can still pretend.
The next is how he reacts; fingers clumsy and uncertain on the buttons of your shirt. The lack of experience is harder to ignore. You're used to soft caresses and often desperate lust; nimble fingers that can strip you bare within minutes manually or even seconds with a click. Yet you can just imagine it better and ignore the blunders. He can learn, your mind whispers, and you would feel guilty but somehow you can't bring yourself to because you can't help but hope it's true.
You can't fake your way through the third issue though and that's difficult to stomach because God you wish you could. He's still shorter than you, few people aren't, but he's not small enough. You don't dwarf him like you should and it makes your heart ache in a way it shouldn't.
It's sick and twisted what you're doing – what you're both doing – but that doesn't stop either of you from carrying it on. You do it for different reasons but that isn't the point. What it all boils down to is that he's the closest you're ever going to get to what you want and it's the same for him.
So you imagine those blue eyes are honey gold and his dark hair is brown like syrup while he visualizes your eyes are green and your hair is shorter and closer to blonde than brown. And it doesn't matter if at times he moans 'Dean' because you whisper 'Gabriel' just as often, lying to yourself that you're not in bed with the wrong brother while he does exactly the same underneath you. Only Gabriel is dead and Dean doesn't love him that way and wouldn't understand if he ever found out. All you have is each other to confide in but it isn't enough to stop the pain for either of you. In the end this is what you have turned into; a farce of love to hide what you're both mourning for. You know it won't last, know it's wrong and impure but you haven't been 'pure' since you were six months old and he's not fairing much better. Besides even when he inevitably leaves it won't matter because you both know this won't really be the last time it happens.
For when all you have left is the fantasy who needs real life?
