Reflection in the Mirror
1/1
Stepping out of the shower, Dean carefully walked on the tile and over to the large foggy mirror. Wiping some of the condensation off, he shook his head and dozens of tiny little water droplets fell on the floor. Dean wrapped his towel around his waist and stretched his arms. The small bathroom was hot and steamy.
It was the first time in about a week that Dean had had time to take a nice and relaxing shower. He and Sam had been on the road for about a week straight with four hunts total. His brother was currently out getting them some food from the local diner.
Dean bent down and picked up the fresh pair of pants that he had brought with him. But first he pulled on his boxers and then his worn out jeans. The towel lay abandoned on the tile floor. Kicking it, Dean looked back in the mirror. He was standing there shirtless. He traced his fingers alongside the tattoo on his left clavicle. He remembered the day he got it.
It hurt like a bitch.
Grimacing, Dean continued to look at himself in the mirror until he noticed something that he had almost forgotten.
The red handprint that was engraved in his arm.
The one from Cas.
Bringing his hand up, he softly caressed the raised skin and closed his eyes as he did.
It was almost a masochistic thing to do.
The instant he closed his eyes, Cas popped into his head. Cas and his big blue eyes with the trench coat, the messy dark hair, the everything.
Soon Dean couldn’t tell the difference between the water from his shower and his tears that were falling.
It was the first time in about a week that Dean had had time to take a nice and relaxing shower. He and Sam had been on the road for about a week straight with four hunts total. His brother was currently out getting them some food from the local diner.
Dean bent down and picked up the fresh pair of pants that he had brought with him. But first he pulled on his boxers and then his worn out jeans. The towel lay abandoned on the tile floor. Kicking it, Dean looked back in the mirror. He was standing there shirtless. He traced his fingers alongside the tattoo on his left clavicle. He remembered the day he got it.
It hurt like a bitch.
Grimacing, Dean continued to look at himself in the mirror until he noticed something that he had almost forgotten.
The red handprint that was engraved in his arm.
The one from Cas.
Bringing his hand up, he softly caressed the raised skin and closed his eyes as he did.
It was almost a masochistic thing to do.
The instant he closed his eyes, Cas popped into his head. Cas and his big blue eyes with the trench coat, the messy dark hair, the everything.
Soon Dean couldn’t tell the difference between the water from his shower and his tears that were falling.