Undeniable Destiel Love

Work of Art

"The attention to detail is remarkable," one of the art gala attendees says to her date. "This painter - this Castiel - he didn't just paint this man. He made love to him."

A few feet back, near the snack table, Dean, mouth full of free cookies, snorts. Castiel quickly shushes him.

"Eavesdropper," Dean attempts to say, word barely discernible from around cookie bites.

Castiel can't argue that, so he just shushes him again.

Dean rolls his eyes but finally falls silent.

"Look at those freckles. I wonder if he guessed or actually counted them."

Oh, Castiel counted them. Many, many times.

The other attendee, a man with an expensive jacket, crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. "It's a fantasy," he says. "No one is that beautiful."

Castiel frowns. He doesn't usually concern himself with subjective criticism but wait one minute now.

"It doesn't matter," the woman says. "Obviously the painter sees him as beautiful, and thus, the painting -"

She has a point. And if that point had been made about any other painting in the world - about any other person in the universe - maybe Castiel wouldn't have stormed across the few feet between them, wedging himself protectively between Dean's portrait and these onlookers, but... well, here they are.

"He is that beautiful," Castiel says and scowls at the man who dared suggest differently. The man stares back at him, wide-eyed. Softer, Castiel says to the woman, "The freckles are accurate."

"Cas!" Dean, wiping a few last crumbs from his mouth, hurries forward. "Baby. Not this again. People are allowed to think I'm not hot."

The man and woman look at Dean and gasp. The man adjusts his glasses. The woman presses a hand to her chest.

Castiel should be the bigger person here, but he isn't. He just smirks and says, "Told you so."

Dean looks at the ceiling and groans.

"My apologies," the man says.

The woman, staring at the bridge of Dean's nose, narrows her eyes. There are numbers on her lips.

Dean grabs Castiel's wrist and pulls him away, out of eyesight of the couple and into a less crowded part of the gallery. A blush reddens his cheeks.

"Come on, man. You always do this."

When Castiel kisses his nose and vows, "But you are that beautiful, Dean. More so, even. I could only barely begin to capture you," that blush deepens and spreads.

Castiel often whispers those same words at night, behind closed doors and into bare skin. Then, Dean preens at the attention, melting more fully against Castiel. Castiel melts, too. Now, Dean just buries his face into Castiel's shoulder.

"You always say shit like that."

"Because it's true." Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him into a hug. "I love you."

Dean sighs dramatically, though his hands close over Castiel's hips and hold firm. His mouth curves into a smile against Castiel's neck. "I love you, too."

∆Credit: thekingslover on AO3. Btw u should check out their account. They are amazing writers.∆