Castiel shivers at the words pressed into his neck, biting
his lip. He’s pressed against the cold marble of one of the alcoves in a corner
of the room, his lips swollen from kisses and hands buried in the fine clothing
of his partner. His hat is so askew it’s at risk of falling off, though his mask
still seems to be in place by some form of divine intervention.
Unfortunately, so is his partner’s. The other man is wearing
a delicate thing of green and gold, the former of which brings out his eyes and
the latter of which highlights the freckles on his nose and the apples of his
cheeks. His light brown hair has been haphazardly messed from kissing, his
clothes are rumpled, and he is totally and completely gorgeous.
…And to think, he never would be here, kissing some handsome
stranger in Venice, if Gabriel had not tricked him onto the plane.
Castiel hums into their next kiss, nodding enthusiastically
against his partner. The other pulls away only to grab his hand with a blinding
grin and pull him in the direction of the door. As they stumble onto the
street, Cas has the brief thought that Gabriel will never let him live this
Then again, he’s never been so happy to be proven wrong.