Inspired by this little doodle I did.
“Yah!” The voice of a child was heard followed by the sharp sound of wood banging against a tree trunk. It was a noise that cut through the air like a spark of fire.
“Dean, there’s another one!” a second voice hollered in excitement.
Dean was rushing with bare feet through the dried leaves and cool soil of the forest floor. His toes kicked up dirt and vegetation as he galloped with joy and vigorous energy. There was a blunted wooden play-sword in his hand. It was worn and dirty from years of continuous use, likely by more than one generation.
On the boys head was paper crown, deep red in colour. It hung onto his hair barely as he ran, stolen bobby pins from his mother keeping it more or less in place.
Lifting the pointed piece of wood above his head he let out an enthusiastic shriek and smashed it against another tree, followed by stabbing motions and kicking with his naked toes. He was protecting King Castiel from a great and fearsome dragon, using all his strength and will to slice and cut the beast into submission and ultimately death.
When he was satisfied with his work he turned, raised the sword above his rusty blonde head and began laughing and calling out in excitement.
Castiel joined him in the victory dance. The movements of his thin legs making a small leather satchel bat at his hip, the red baby blanket around his neck flutter and dance with them and yellow crown similar to Dean’s bounce atop his head, the clear identifier of his highness.
When they were finally out of breath they casually plopped themselves on the ground and slowly quieted.
“That was fun.” Castiel said to the darker boy.
Dean grinned, his nose crinkling and the sprinkles of brown freckles moving beautifully over his tanned skin. His lashes were thick and his eyes round and unearthly green.
“I told you it would be, you can be the knight next time,” Dean told the other as he gestured to the sword which was now resting against his hip.
Castiel nodded in agreement, his dark floppy hair brushing against his forehead from the motion. He very much enjoyed playing all sorts of wildly exciting pretend games with Dean, it thrilled him to no end, no matter if it was pirates, army men or the king and his knight, Dean made every second vivid and enthralling, made his senses overwhelm with joy from the rush of it all, it was like living in a story book where Dean wrote every word and painted every picture with the twist of his wrist, the pivot of his ankle that led into a jump or a kick and the call of his projecting voice; he made whatever they were doing a complete decadent reality.
“You got something to eat in the bag, Cas?” Dean asked pointing at the pouch still strapped over Castiel’s shoulder.
Nodding the boy removed the satchel and opened the flap. Reaching his slender and pale hand into the cavity he pulled out a ripe red apple, the patterns of light moving from the tree leaves above them flickered on its smooth crimson surface and reflected back on Castiels skin in bright red flecks.
“It looks like the poison apple from Snow White.” Dean pointed out, an amused tone to his voice.
Castiels eyes widened and he looked at Dean, “What if it is?” He proposed to the other, his fingers tightening around the apple.
“Take a bite and see.” Dean’s lips cracked into a toothy smile.
Castiel looked at the red thing then at Dean again.
“Rock paper scissors?” Cas said, his eyes meeting Deans, this way it would be fair. They could have easily just set the apple aside and walked back home but the thrill of the game was enticing to say the least.
Dean didn’t say anything and only put his hand out, cuffed tight in a fist.
“Rock, paper, scissors.” They spoke in unison, their hands moving to the beat of their voices.
Dean had scissors and Castiel, paper.
The blue eyed boy huffed and bit his lip, lifting the apple to that it was at eye level, he examined it, as if he was going to find some trace of danger on its skin.
Dean was smiling bright and true, “Go on, do it.” He pushed.
Castiel swallowed hard and pressed his lips to the fruit.
Dean watched as if it were a suspenseful moment in a movie. His eyes darted over Castiels face, his strangely plump and round lips were something like what a girl would have. He had long thin eye lashes and thick locks of black hair and cheeks that flushed pink from him being warm. Dean mimicked the strained swallow his friend had done only seconds earlier.
Closing his teeth Castiel took a bite, the apple crunched and spurted droplets of moisture from its wound. His chewing was reserved and he looked down in his lap as he did so, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was waiting for the moment when his heart would stop and he would fall backwards as a lifeless body.
When this didn’t happen he lifted his chin and met his gaze with Deans once more, who had been continuously watching him in the moments he had been chewing.
“It’s not poisoned.” Castiel announced with a wide grin on his pink lips.
Dean was quiet.
“Cas, you know you have really girly lips.”
“I do?” Castiel questioned, raising a hand to prod and poke at them.
“Yeah…” Dean trailed off, he was closer now. Lifting a hand he grabbed at the knot of Castiels cape and pulled him a little closer. With this movement Castiel dropped the apple, letting it roll away somewhere next to them.
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Cas?” Dean asked, looking directly into the blue eyes opposite his own.
“No, have you?” Castiels voice shook timidly.
“No.” He replied with a sure tone, “Do you want to kiss me?” he added, scanning the boy’s face for an answer.
“Kings aren’t supposed to kiss knights.” Castiel responded, a blush creeping over the bridge of his nose.
“Who cares?” The light haired boy mumbled.
Before Castiel had time to respond their lips were pressed together softly. Dean could taste the apple on Castiels mouth, if it was poisonous; they were both in trouble now.