Spectacles

Title: Spectacles

Fandom: Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean/Castiel.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 556

Spoilers: If you know who Castiel is, you're good.

Warnings: None

Feedback: Yes please.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to Supernatural.

Beta: None.

Notes: This was written for the deancaskink kinkmeme number 004 for this prompt.

Summary: Dean hates his new glasses. Cas doesn't.

Link to this fic on LJ and on DW and on AO3.

”Shit. I hate 'em. They make me look old,” Dean grumbled in front of the mirror. His newly acquired glasses stood out on his face like a fucking pair of black eyes and combined with his disgruntled frown the effect was less than pleasing. At least Dean thought so.

”You're not even forty, Dean. I've been around since before this globe started spinning,” Cas snarked from somewhere behind Dean in that unemotional way of his ”You will always seem young to me.”

Whipping off the glasses with venom, Dean whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at nothing in particular, maybe the world in general. ”That's so not the point. I'm a hunter, Cas! If I ever even make it to forty, I will be old. And how the Hell am I supposed to keep hunting with these things on?”

”I'm sure you'll manage. Like you always have,” Cas replied, his voice serious. Dean couldn't really make out his face from across the room and it pissed him off. So in spite of himself he pushed the glasses back on his face and realized that Cas was staring at him. In The History of Dean and Cas and The Weird Ways of their relationship, Cas had always had a multitude of stares. Everything from the what-kind-of-strange-being-are-you stare right across the spectrum to the get-naked-right-the-fuck-now stare.

This stare was somewhere between this-is-about-to-get-really-fucking-emotional and get-naked. Dean smirked. He could totally get behind some nakedness right now.

He was just about to take off the glasses again and get on with the nakedness business, when Cas strode over to him as quickly and as suddenly as he had done back in the day before his fall, when he could still angel-mojo himself into Dean's personal space in the blink of an eye. Now that he was doing it on foot, it didn't seem any less surprising. Even more surprising was the way Cas gripped Dean's wrist and stopped the hand on its way to the glasses. ”Don't,” came the quiet request.

The stare was slowly evolving from get-naked to smolder and Dean could only swallow when Cas leaned in and fucking licked the black rim along the top off the glasses, following it all across the bridge over the nose to the other side, making goddamn lewd slithering motions with his tongue all the way. His breath fogged up the lenses, but Dean couldn't care less. He was going cross-eyed anyway, trying to follow the action happening much too close to his face.

When Cas finally pulled back and the fog started to clear, Dean was hard in his jeans and Cas was looking flushed. Dean tried for bravado and croaked out: ”Kinky...” not quite managing to put on his trademark smirk to accompany the sentiment.

Cas was still smoldering away, staring, staring and staring at Dean and his goddamn glasses, somehow pulling all the oxygen out of the air between them so Dean had to gasp for breath.

”I think,” Cas offered, licking his lips nervously, ”that your new glasses make you look... sexy.”

Dean decided this would be a really good fucking time to get naked. Except for the glasses. They were totally staying on. Clearly they were kinda awesome, when it came right down to it.

End.