Work Text:
Dean is an ocean, vast and wonderful. Dreadful. Light scatters across his surface. Dazzling and wonderous in its depth, blinding in its intensity. A wave rises, reaches for the moon. The sea is always hungry. Always devouring.
Current rocks and rocks and rocks, tide pulling at his insides, Cas pulling him further and further away from the shore, waves crashing.
Sure there’s been rocks. Sure there are sunken ships, broken bones of things that tried to navigate this cruel sea. They only ever skated on his treacherous surface as he stormed and becalmed. Ships either docked or sunk.
Sometimes they are dragged down, where he can never let them go.
Mariana trench, Dean thinks, in his cold darkness. He always sinks there. But…
But still the tide turns. Currents pull. Cold water stirs. Luminous.
Cas is the moon.
Lagoons are shallow, warm but fleeting. Full of life and love and sand and grit and it empties out with the turning of the sky and returns.
Lisa was a lagoon, warm and wonderful and full of sun and darting life. But it doesn’t last. It never lasts.
They rock, they swell. Gravity pulls them. Cas pulls him.
Masts creak, under here. Rotted and barnacled. Shredded canvas turned to threaded dust on the seabed, stirring it up it only clouds things. Makes things murky.
Best let deep things lie, he thinks.
They moan, light and breathless. Deep and tectonic. Lips graze and teeth clench. Skin bleeds brine and hair sticks, weeds against their brows.
Tendons cable against mouths. Hands belay.
They crest.
And the angry ocean stills. Rests. Dean rests.
Cas shines above him, full.