Title: Lost in Translation
Summary: "'Every freckle is a kiss from an angel' is a little… how you say, bullshit, in a way. It's lost in translation." A different take on the old wives tale. Fluffy Destiel.
Pairings: Destiel. Implied Sabriel.
Author's Note: Hi, everybody, First Supernatural fic and all. I'm actually just very new into the series. I haven't met Cas yet, I admit. But every once in a while, I watch ahead or watch key funny moment. It helps get a grip of Cas' character. I haven't written in over 5 or more months, so maybe I'm a little rusty? Give all the criticism you can, you guys. BUT, if you're going to tell me I'm out-of-character, best save your breath, hun, because I'm pretty sure I really am, anyways. : )
Enjoy!
~*(M&M)*~
~*(M&M)*~
Every freckle is a kiss from an angel.
That's the bullshit wives tell their children at night. Akin to the bogey-man and the 'don't swim after your just ate' jive (that the Winchester brothers had been proven right in their earlier days).
But this particular one had spiked up the older Winchester's fancy. By that, he meant that he had to take a double- triple-… quite several- takes to make sure he had read it right.
He even dwindled into saying the phrase in different spacing and intonations; even doing some ill-conceived accent impressions here and there.
He shook his head roughly after a brief moment. The scowl plastered on his face gave a look of both disgust and curiosity. "Angel kisses, huh?" I muttered quietly to himself while bringing the beer bottle he clutched in his hand to his lips.
His mind wandered to a rather uncomfortable thought of Gabriel and his own little brother in relevance to what he had read. Needless to say, he coughed and almost spluttered out his drink.
Setting his bottle down next to the laptop, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His own heated skin pressed against his own plump lips. At that moment, his eyelids fluttered.
"Castiel."
The sudden thought made him jerk away and slam his back into the chair. A light red had crept into his face, across his cheeks and down his neck. He made a slight grunting sound, eyes twitching.
"Bullshit." Dean thought to himself, "I read this at a children's site, dammit. There is no way this is legit. People don't know what they're talking about."
He sighed as he hastily closed the tab in his browser.
Dean's mouth twitched, he certainly didn't want to believe what he just read- not that it's even possible it's true. Of course it's not.
…Right? Yes, right.
Absolutely.
But it still left some lingering doubt that made Dean felt queasy. Dean had freckles all his life… not just when he met the winged Angel of the Lord. At least that's what he was nagging to himself as he paced back and forth in his motel room.
In frustration, he decided it was time to retire for the day. A quick glance to the clock told him it was far too early to go to sleep in his standards. Sam might come home from the grocery store and wonder why his older brother had gone to bed as early as 9.
…Maybe he might grow suspicious and check the motel for sleep-casting demons. Maybe he'd check the drawers for sleeping pills or drugs… Maybe he'd check out his last visited site in his browsing history.
With that thought, Dean raced to his laptop to erase his history 'from the beginning of time'.
After that short-lived heart attack, the man readied himself for bed. His thoughts were bubbling, but he suppressed them. There was only one that was able to go by him, "Kiss from an angel"
He decided to sleep on it instead.
He did not sleep at all.
~*(M&M)*~
~*(M&M)*~
The following afternoon, Dean sat in a diner eating pie. Usual.
…Alone ...Because he and his brother had an argument early in the morning. Usual.
…Something about Sam being infuriated about his empty browsing history. Odd.
…Which Dean could not elaborate on, so he said he was watching porn all night. Surprisingly frequent.
Dean sighed in defeat and called on the waitress to give him his bill for the 3 apple pies he had eaten since his arrival 20 minutes earlier.
~*(M&M)*~
~*(M&M)*~
"Cas." He gathered the courage to call.
"Yes, Dean?" The angel had answered in his usual monotone manner.
The two were alone in the Impala with Cas in the backseat. They made a stop to a gas station because Sam couldn't stop his stomach from growling as it digested itself from their recent mission.
"S-So, um… Cas." Dean began, biting his tongue in punishment of his own stutter. "I've been doing this research lately-"
"That's very good, Dean." Castiel had pointed out.
"Uh, yeah." Dean muttered, lifting his gaze to see Cas in the rear-view mirror. "So… I read this… thing. It's stupid, actually. I… I-I don't know why I'm bringing it up." He laughed to himself nervously.
There was a brief pause of silence.
Castiel was unfazed, his deep blue eyes curious but solemn as he stared at the back of Dean's seat in anticipation for what he was going to say next.
Dean ducked his head, "…But anyways. I read that… um, every freckle…" Dean swallowed hard and looked back at the rear-view mirror from under his eyelashes secretly, "…is… a… kissfromanangel." He continued in a rush, fumbling on his words.
Castiel's face had softened up, and he slowly sunk back into his seat.
Blood rushed back into Dean's face, he defended, "N-Not that I believe that bullshit. I've had fucking freckles all my life. I'm not implying something. I wouldn't… I won't. I…" He had to pause for the sake of the all the breath that he lost in his rant.
"…I just… wanted to see if you knew it. It's not real, right? ...Right, Cas?" He choked on the last two words, making it an octave higher than usual.
He shouldn't have done this. His paranoia was getting in the way. It was making things awkward. Cas would probably think he was weird… or maybe not care. I mean, Cas is always there for them; unfazed by whatever. He didn't care that they were questionable in alliance. He didn't care when Dean came home drunk. He didn't care what he had to do to protect them…
Come to think of it, he didn't really care about anything at all other than the two Winchesters.
…And maybe burgers.
So here he is: The official Winchester Guardian Angel. The ethereal being in a vessel composed of dark messy hair, 5'o clock shadow and impossibly blue eyes that burst in the darkness. He's holy. He's socially alienated. He's wise. He's empathic. He's laughing. He's- wait, what?
Dean spun his head around as soon as he detected what… seemed to be laughing.
I don't think he's every laughed before. "This is new." Dean thought to himself. But the sudden assumption that maybe Cas is laughing at Dean, made the Winchester turn a furious red.
Apparently, Dean's frequent stupidity is enough to make angels laugh at him. "Nice going, Dean." He mumbled spitefully to himself.
But finally soaking in the sight before him, it didn't matter. Cas beaming from ear to ear is beautiful.
He's beautiful.
"Dean, I-" He gasped for breath and finally settled himself down, "I apologize. I was taken aback." He tried to explain.
Dean raised his hand, "No, it's fine, Cas." He reassured, "I make stupid questions from time to time?" He admitted lightly.
Cas only shook his head. "You don't understand."
Dean looked at the man curiously, tilting his head.
"'Every freckle is a kiss from an angel' is a little… how you say, bullshit, in a way."
Dean felt like grinning at hearing an angel- an angel curse... But something made him feel a little disappointed at the back of his head. He shook it off.
"It's lost in translation." Castiel curtly explains with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
"Ah." Is the only thing Dean can force out of his mouth…. At least it's sufficient.
"So then," Dean hesitates, but takes a breath, "What- What is the right translation, then… uh, Cas?"
There was an unmistakable heat that enveloped around Castiel's collar. He fidgeted, "Oh. Well…" Slinking back into his seat, he coerces himself to sound casual, "I believe it's… Every freckle is a kiss than an angel owes." He put emphasis on the last word unintentionally.
Dean snaps and accidentally grips the steering wheel tightly in surprise. His mouth hung loose, much to his chagrin, but in the dark, it was evident (thankfully).
Cas continues, "A kiss from an angel is… per se a blessing." He drummed his fingers on his knee, lowering his gaze because- gosh, the upholstery is suddenly very interesting.
"A freckle grants a person a blessing; it's… a good omen." Cas nods to himself, sufficient in his explanation.
Dean, on the other hand is still hesitant, he scoffs, "Some lucky bastard I should be, then." He runs a hand through his cheek.
Cas quickly picks up, "Well, it is an angel choice whether or not should they bestow a blessing."
A dagger cuts deep through Dean's heart, twists and pulls out. "Oh."
An awkward silence followed and Dean was starting to wonder what was taking Sam so long. He was about to open his mouth until Cas had something more to add.
"… sometimes angels find people unworthy or…" his voice trails, "are apprehensive."
A wave or relief had washed through Dean, "O-Oh! I see…" Dean murmurs. He shakes his head with a laugh, "I wish I was kissed by an angel. I need all the luck I can get."
Dean takes a sharp inhale after his words registered in his brain. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He mentally curses himself. He slinks back against his chair and hopes Cas has A) Not heard that, B) Doesn't understand, or at least C) Doesn't see the angry red staining his cheeks.
Embarrassed, Dean quickly glances at the rear-view only to find Castiel smiling… smiling.
"Dean."
"Yes, Cas?" He answered in a whisper, peering into the night, hoping to see his brother so he can kick his sorry ass for taking so long.
"How many?
He paused, his face contorting in confusion. He retaliates, "How many what?"
"How many freckles do you have, Dean?"
More confused than he was 8 seconds ago, Dean whips his head back to give Castiel a truly bewildered expression; slack-jawed and one of his eyebrows raised. It was an odd question. Maybe he was curious to how many times an angel had gone by and said 'this bastard doesn't deserve good things' or he could just be curious about Dean's body.
Truth be told, Dean returns the sentiment to Cas, if ever the latter.
Seeing the empty expression on Cas' face meant that it wasn't a joke, nor did he hear wrong. Defeated, Dean rolls his eyes and tries to recall the last time he's looked in a mirror.
"Um… 47." He answered, and took his sweet time to add, "62 if you add the one's that aren't on my face." He smirks suggestively, peering into the window to see a tall figure heading towards the Impala.
Dean as about to point that out with a simple, 'Ah, Sam's back.', but all words were stuck in his windpipe when a pair of soft lips pressed against Dean's cheek.
He froze, unable to move or think. Well, save for the 'HOLY FUCKING SHIT CAS IS KISSING ME' that's going on in his head. The heat returns- and this time all over his body.
The short-lived kiss ends with a rather loud smack as Cas backs away into his seat.
Dean dares not to look in his direction to hide the scarlet across his face. But 3 little words made his heart simply stop beating for a second.
"61 to go."
Dean swallows hard.
The remainder of that night drive was spent in awkward silence. Except for Sam's innocent question of "Dean, are you coming down with something? You're really red." , which made Dean almost drive the car off the road.