The name is Sarah.
Welcome to the wonderful land of my fandom-confused blog.
Ziam - Larry Stylinson - Destiel
Oh hell, I ship pretty much everything, have fun, and I hope you make it out alive.
It’s almost eight in the evening and Dean is lounging on his back porch, nursing his beer bottle in the cool night air, when he begins to hear soft mewling from his garden.
When he finally drags himself up to investigate, he finds a small and dirty black kitten, staring up with big, blue, hopeful eyes.
Thirty minutes later, he has a freshly cleaned kitten squirming about in one of his old sweaters, and a few new band-aids on his hands. He’s getting ready to drive the two of them to a pet shop down the road, when a timid knock arrives on his front door. The little kitten perks up.
Dean opens the door and sees the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he’s ever had the chance of coming across. They’re a bit teary, the hosts eyebrows are scrunched together; Dean looks down to see the small young man playing with what looks like a photograph.
Dean knows. He smiles at him, his cheeks a light pink, and steps down onto the porch with the little kitten wrapped in his arms. The dark haired young man smiles with his entire face when he peers inside, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes. He laughs, a relieved, exhausted sound, and Dean passes the bundle of sweater to him, watches as he wiggles his fingers and the kitten launches after them.
Dean invites him in for coffee, and eventually the mussed head of hair is snoring softly and pressed into his shoulder; the small kitten curls into his lap. The blush on Dean’s cheeks returns.
An hour later, the now droopy-eyed man; Castiel, as he had learned, detangles himself from Dean’s warm arms, blushing profusely as he mutters apologies.
Dean only hands him a piece of torn newspaper, a series of numbers scribbled across it. Castiel smiles again.