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Post by anomaly on Feb 17, 2016 22:40:51 GMT -8
He sat there, studying her with a suspicious glare. She had doubled over at the middle a few minutes ago saying nothing.
Where the hell was Sammy? Sammy was the one who dealt well with the crazies.
Finally, she gasped loudly, bolting up straight as she grabbed for him. He couldn’t step back in time to avoid her touch. She looked straight into his eyes, her brething uneven for a moment more.
“Uh, lady…” Dean started, disturbeby the scene – he couldn’t disengage from her iron grip. She just tightened her hold even more.
“Eyes of oceans, but deeper,” she began as her breathing evened. Dean raised an eyebrow – this woman was whacked. “Lifetimes, but only one life together,” her voice continued in a monotone. “Most loyal shadow – even in the darkness.”
“Alright lady, look,” Dean tried tugging his arm loose again, more gently this time – he managed to remove it. “I don’t know what you’re on and—“ Jesus, where the hell was Samuel?
“Fallen, but not quite broken,” she ended, blinking as he removed his arm, rubbing at her hands as if they were frozen. “How?” She looked at Dean in wonder as if she was really seeing him for the first time.
He shifted a bit on his feet, studying her, “what was that?”
“All I saw were feathers,” she quirked her eyebrows at him in confusion.
“Feathers?” Dean quirked his eyebrows right back at her. “Look, we’re…” He paused, looking over his shoulder for his brother – who was still not around. “Okay, I’m here to ask you about the body you keep saying you found.”
“I just…” The woman looked at him, a slow shake of her head as she rubbed at her hands still. “I can’t today. Tomorrow would be better.”
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly – he wanted to yell at her for wasting his time, but she had said crazy shit – he had no time for crazy shit. There were bodies out there and here was this crazy lady. His brother was gone and… oh jeez.
--
“Fine,” he nodded, shifting away from her, “tomorrow.” He stood there for a second longer, ready to go. But he had some questions that were bugging him, he just had to ask, even if they weren’t related to the body. “Uh…”
“Hmm?” She focused back on him, squinting a bit.
“What you were saying earlier, `eyes of oceans` - what was that?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward while he waited for her to answer. Usually he had no patience for drawing out answers from a crazy person.
She rolled her shoulders with a slight frown, “feathers, light, a man – I’m not sure what it was. It’s how it’s always been, it’s not a clear picture, it’s more like a puzzle.” She stifled a yawn, “I’m, I’m sorry. Those…” She paused as if choosing her words, “things always take a lot out of me.” Her eyes flicked to the door.
Dean studied her for a moment, opening his mouth to ask something when he heard the door opening behind him. He turned his head a bit to look over his shoulder, seeing his brother – wonderful timing, as usual.
“Well?” Sam looked at Dean with an expression of curiousity.
Dean rolled his shoulders as if frustrated, “she’s not feeling too hot, she asked us to come –“ he looked over at her.
“Tomorrow,” she nodded, “I’m so sorry but –“
Dean cut her off with a shake of his head and a smile, “that’s fine, really. Agent?” He swiveled his head to Sam, clearing his throat with a hopefully-subtle glance to the door.
“Agent,” Sam nodded as he smiled to the woman, “see you tomorrow.” He moved to the door with Dean following behind.
--
They exited the house, walking to the car. Dean stopped before opening his door, glancing over the top of the car to Sam. “Where were you, Sammy?”
“Oh, I got a call,” Sam looked away to the door handle on his side, “I…” He hesistated briefly before nodding, “I have to go out of town. A buddy needs help.”
“Really? Right now? We’re on a…”
“I know, but he needs me now.”
Dean opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head while trying to count to five mentally. “Fine, do what you want. Not like I can stop you.” He opened the door and climbed into the car.
“Dean –“ Sam climbed in as well on his side.
“No man, I got it,” Dean flashed a tight grin, “We gotta help others – it’s what we do.”
Sam studied his brother for a second, “okay…” Silence, then “you okay?”
“Hmm?” Dean started the car, “yeah, just hungry.” He flashed a grin, more relaxed than the previous one, moving the wheel in order to pull away from the curb.
Sam studied him again before giving a nod, as if accepting Dean’s answer, sliding down in his seat some. “Home?”
Dean frowned a bit before nodding, “home. I’ll send Garth – he’s as crazy as her.” He saw Sam nod before closing his eyes.
<i> Eyes of ocean, but deeper.
Lifetimes, but only one life together.
Most loyal shadow – even in the darkness.
Fallen, but not quite broken. </i>
Dean shook his head, unsure what the hell that lady had meant. Blue eyes, feathers, light…
Castiel?
Why would she be talking about Cas?
His lips twitched into a soft smile as he thought about that perpetually confused angel dressed as an insurance agent. Dean decided he would rather think about Castiel than that lady and the case they were on, while covering the first half of the drive back home to the bunker.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 18, 2016 13:34:35 GMT -8
Castiel simply couldn't understand why Sam would want him to come to the bunker, but, if Sam said he was needed, of course he would come. He would always come. Even...if it meant risking Dean's ire. It had been there, waiting, when Castiel came back to himself after Lucifer had been expelled. For one brief moment, he'd seen a look on Dean's face he couldn't comprehend, couldn't understand. And then the hunter's face had closed to him, gone cold and hard and filled with the betrayal he'd surely felt. It still hurt, however, that anger, that rage, that look that said 'you betrayed me, again, you destroyed my trust in you' – every time Castiel had seen it since he'd first gotten himself back, it burned him.
The whole incident with the Darkness had a strange effect on Heaven – it, essentially, rebooted it. Heaven was open, restored, angels could come and go at will – or on orders, Castiel wasn't sure anymore. He avoided Heaven and his brethren even more than he avoided Dean these days. But the result for him had been that he was no longer fully cut off from Heaven. He had his wings back, and he was as fully powered as he was ever likely to be. Yet...without his friends, without his chosen family, he was able to take no comfort or joy in that.
He'd spent his time drifting, out of touch of most everything, doing what he could in small ways to help humans he encountered. Occasionally, Sam would call to talk to him. To check up on him, Cas suspected; he knew the younger Winchester worried about him. Sam had forgiven him for what he'd done, he'd eventually seen that what Cas had done had been...well, perhaps not the right choice, but the only viable one the angel had been able to see at the time. Dean, however...well, all Sam could ever tell him what that Dean still refused to speak about it. Refused, in fact, to even say Cas' name, and grew angry if Sam even tried to bring him up. It left an ache in his vessel's chest that no amount of healing could seem to fix.
Then again, no amount of grace expended could, in his experience, heal a broken heart.
When he arrived at the bunker in a flutter of wings – and a rush of stark relief that Dean at least hadn't gone so far as to ward it against angels, against him – having allowed for time to Sam to get back himself – or so he had thought – it was empty. The sounds of his footsteps echoed down empty corridors as he wandered cautiously, looking for Sam despite being able to tell that no one was here, nor had been for at least a couple of days. Whatever it had been Sam needed – and he'd been curiously unwilling to talk about it over the phone – he'd made it sound quite important. Yet, he wasn't here to meet Castiel like he'd said he would be. It worried Cas, but not enough to call him; not yet.
Ignoring the flash of guilt he felt, the angel took the opportunity presented by the empty bunker to wander through it now, not searching, just...taking in what had once been the closest thing he had to a home since choosing to give up everything for the infuriating, fascinating, incredible green-eyed hunter he'd pulled from Hell and put back together with his own grace and will.
He wandered thorough the garage, stopping to stare for awhile at the empty spot where the Impala customarily rested when Dean was home. His gaze hovered momentarily, a faint gleam of longing visible if anyone had been there to see it, over the sight of his old Continental, gold paint shining as though it had been recently and lovingly cleaned and polished – which, he reasoned, wasn't actually likely. Dean did all the car maintenance, and he wouldn't bother even touching anything that had been Castiel's...right?
He meandered through the hallways, coming to Sam's room, the door left open. It was just as bare as it had always been. Even now, the younger Winchester hadn't settled into the idea that the bunker truly was home, not in the way Dean had...and in the way Castiel had once – and perhaps even still did – longed for. He moved on down the corridor another few doors, coming to a stop before one that looked like all the others aside from the gleaming '11' displayed on the closed door; Dean's room.
He stared at the closed door for several silent minutes, biting down on his lip in a very human indication of indecision. Then, with a sigh, he turned away and made his way back toward the library to wait for Sam's return.
When the sound of someone entering the bunker from the garage drifted to him, he looked up from the book he'd been reading, cautious relief showed in his deep blue eyes. Whatever was going on, he was finally about to find out. Those same eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights at the sight of Dean starting down the stairs. It was only the pure shock of the sight that kept him from vanishing in a flutter of wings before Dean could catch sight of him sitting there at one of the tables, the old volume he'd found on – of all things, angels – already setting out on the table open before him from where he'd been reading the familiar text.
Instead of his familiar greeting, all he could do was stare silently at the man he hadn't seen in nearly a year now with a mix of shock and longing openly written in deep, ocean-blue eyes.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 21, 2016 9:44:47 GMT -8
DEAN-- “Sammy,” Dean muttered as he waited for Sam to get out of the car, which he was taking his sweet time about doing. “Would you hurry up!” He scowled at the darkness beyond the door frame, shaking his head, “forget it.” He wasn’t going to wait any longer for his brother, he turned around in disgust, for someone who had been so insistent that he had to be home right away…
A scowl was affixed on his face as he stormed towards the stairs, stomping down a few steps. “Jesus Christ Sammy,” he muttered, turning to look behind him to see if he had finally came in.
Sam still was nowhere to be seen.
Dean turned around with a scoff, moving down the stairs now, muttering things under his breath, holding onto the keys to Baby in one hand. He lifted his head after storming down the steps, the muttering died on his lips as he saw that they had a visitor. Someone he hadn’t seen in… fuck, how long has it been now? It wasn’t like he was counting the days on his calendar. “Uh,” he stood there, uncertainty stealing over his face, “Sammy?”
He paused, it seemed like the light went off over his head, “did Sammy call you?” He fiddled a bit with his keys, staying where he was at the bottom of the steps.
CASTIEL-- Instead of answering immediately, Cas stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Dean. He took a step toward the hunter, and then another, before finally remembering himself and stopping. He wasn't welcome here, he wasn't welcome around Dean...not anymore. No matter how strong the draw he still felt toward the man was, he just...wasn't wanted.
“Yes,” he finally replied. “He told me to meet him here. He...said it was important. I was...needed here.” The angel's head tilted to the side, his flesh around his eyes scrunching up in puzzlement. Why would Sam call to tell him he was needed, and Dean not even know about it? And where was he, anyway?
Tearing his gaze from Dean, his hands slipped into the pocket of his overcoat, more for something to do than anything. The awkwardness was enough to get to even him, and he was torn between just taking flight now, and staying put. Sam had said it was important, and that Cas was needed. Cas...clung to that, almost desperately, that idea that he might still be needed by someone, in some capacity.
“I can go. I'm sure whatever it was, he can tell me over the phone.” Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet with Dean's, falling silent for a moment as he simply studied the hunter, taking in every small change over the past year, and, really, just allowing himself this single moment to bask in the presence he missed more than any other in Creation.
Then, remembering, once again, that he wasn't trusted or wanted, he said, “I'm sorry, Dean. I know I'm not wanted here.” He glanced toward the top of the stairs, as though hoping to see Sam, before preparing to take flight away before Dean could become angry at his intrusion.
DEAN-- Dean looked over his shoulder, up the stairs, “he’s…” A slight furrow of his eyebrows, “somewhere.” A roll of his shoulders as he returned his attention to Castiel. He looked the same, but wasn’t behaving the same. Not the way he remembered of him, his eyebrows kept furrowing further as he tilted his head a bit. “Sammy said that?” What the hell was so important that Sam couldn’t just tell him.
No, instead, he had to play games.
A slight huff, “you’re here already,” he shook his head, moving past him to drop the keys onto one of the tables. “You don’t have to go anywhere,” he wanted to add on `please stay`, but wouldn’t let himself. He mentally shook himself, moving toward the kitchen. “Want a beer?” Even though he hadn’t seen Castiel actually eat or drink anything since he last had been human, he still had to ask.
He stopped in mid-stride, turning around to study Castiel, tucking his hands into his pocket, looking down at the floor for a moment. What was he supposed to say to make everything better? It seemed like every time he said something, he just ended up fucking things up even worse.
CASTIEL-- Cas nodded slowly in reply, unsure what to say. Sam had said it, and the angel had believed it, though he was beginning to have his doubts about the motivation behind Sam's call, now. There certainly didn't seem to be any immediate trouble they needed to make use of him for. Though, he couldn't imagine why Sam would say such a thing just to get him here, where he most certainly wasn't needed at all.
Still, he said nothing. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a rift between the brothers. He'd caused enough damage to their little family. Or, well, he corrected his own thoughts silently, former family, in his case.
Castiel's eyes followed Dean as he moved past, actually flinching slightly when the keys clattered onto the table top, though he didn't turn to face the hunter, almost afraid to. The words that followed took him by surprise, traitorous hope blooming, causing his vessel's heart rate to speed. “I... Yes, please, Dean,” he finally said after a beat, his voice betraying the surprise he felt at the offer.
Slowly, he turned, only to find Dean just standing there, turned back toward him, looking down at the floor. Swallowing once, he stepped forward, eyes fixed intently on the hunter, only coming to a stop when he'd gone well past the bubble of personal space he'd always been lectured about, and yet...always used to be able to get away with violating, anyway.
If he was going to be allowed here, for this brief moment, he was going to take this small thing with him when he had to go.
“Hello, Dean,” he said, his gravelly voice thick with emotion.
DEAN-- “Beer,” he responded with a nod, meaning to turn and go, but he didn’t move; not wanting to move, really. A slight part of his lips as he tried to think of something else to say, it was so weird that he’d always think about what he’d say to Castiel if he ever saw him again… and here he was. Dean was drawing a blank as to what he should say.
When Castiel started to move, Dean internally panicked, his mind reacting even though his body refused to obey. It said go while his body mutinied.
There was a look in Castiel’s eyes, not one he had seen for a long while. Determination. What was Castiel up to?
Dean quirked his eyebrows curiously, wanting to take a step back when the angel entered his personal space. “Uh,” he closed his mouth, furrowing those eyebrows, “hi?” What the hell? “Castiel?” He asked in a whisper.
CASTIEL-- Castiel didn't respond at first. Though, his name on the hunter's lips, his full name, his true name, a word Dean almost never said, caused a spark of warmth deep within him. No one said his name quite the way Dean did.
Instead, he pulled his hands from the pockets of his overcoat, and, perplexed by his own actions, he rested his right hand on the Dean's left shoulder, and raised his left hand to briefly touch the hunter's cheek. As he did this, his eyes searched Dean's, the ocean-blue of them darkening. “Dean, I...”
He hesitated, his eyes widening as what he was doing truly hit him. Flustered now, he let his hands drop away and turned to move away, shocked by the liberties he'd taken. Almost mumbling now, he said, “Perhaps I should go find Sam. I can ask what he...needed, and then go. That might be best.”
DEAN-- He tilted his head slightly into the touch, his eyes studying Castiel some more. He wasn’t even sure what was going on; even though he was very aware of the fact that Castiel was touching him. It set his heart off, quick painful bounds that just wouldn’t settle. When Castiel’s hand moved away, Dean could feel the absence. Where there had been warmth, there was only cold now. His eyes closed, he took in a quick breath, trying to think clearly.
The clarity was not going to happen, no matter how much he needed it.
He wanted to know why Castiel was here.
Hell, he wanted to know why Castiel had touched him the way he did.
“Cas?” He murmured softly, reaching out to touch him, his hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Stay,” he finally asked, the request soft – pleading. He knew he sounded weak and he hated himself for it, but it was better than watching the angel go and disappear again.
CASTIEL-- His name, the name Dean had given him, falling from that same man's lips, stopped him more surely than the hand on his shoulder did, though both were welcome, more than welcome, even. And then that single word, 'stay', spoken as a plea, an offering that went straight to his core, and he found he couldn't leave. No, not now.
His head came up, though he couldn't quite bring himself to turn to look at Dean, afraid that he would see something in his expression to shatter the illusion the softness of his request had woven in the angel's imagination. “Of course. I...” He struggled to find words, something to say, to respond in a way the hunter would be comfortable with. Whatever it would take to take them back to the time before his own betrayal, before he sank low enough to let Lucifer in, and allow him to hide that from the Winchesters for far too long in the name of desperation.
But, no words came. There were none that could turn back time, or erase that action. There were no words that could erase that one simple 'yes' he'd spoken. And, despite the regret, he wasn't sure he would, even if the chance came. If he hadn't, Dean probably wouldn't be alive to hate him for the betrayal.
He let his head drop, leaning almost imperceptibly into the warmth of the hand on his shoulder. “All you ever have to do is ask. I will always come whenever you call. And...I would always stay. All you ever had to do was ask.”
DEAN-- Dean’s lips twisted into a small grateful smile, he pulled his hand back, tilting his head. “I’m asking now,” he nodded slowly, unsure what he should do next. It wasn’t like they had anything to do now, honestly before he had entered the bunker, his mind had been all about having a couple cold beers, a hot shower, and a long nap in his bed.
But right now, he wanted Castiel. Well. He wasn’t even sure what exactly the `want` was, but he knew he wanted Castiel around.
“It all went to hell,” he spoke, looking down at his hands before glancing back up at him with a look of uncertainty. “When you left,” he added as he tried to explain,” he shifted back to find a table to sit on. He wanted to roam the room, just to be moving, he hated sitting still when a situation became so charged. But, he knew if he moved, it would spook Castiel. Hell, it’d spook himself as well.
A frown appeared on his lips as he settled on the table, his eyes searching Castiel. “Why did you do it?” He was referring to the fact that Cas never told them, never explained that he said yes. Sure, Dean would have told Castiel not to and ended up being the one to take on Lucifer, but that wasn’t the point… He had thought Castiel trusted him enough to tell him everything.
CASTIEL-- He turned when the hand dropped away from his shoulder, taking that faint bit of warmth with it. He couldn't not turn around, really. He needed to see Dean, really take the chance to look at him, while he felt he had a sort of tacit permission to.
His brow creased in a frown, his eyes once again roving over the hunter's form, studying, searching, as though the explanation for his words were somehow written somewhere on his body. But Dean seemed fine, physically. Tired, restless, worn out in some deep way that troubled the angel, but...whole and sound and....safe. He could look deeper, glimpse the man's soul, but...after everything, that felt like some kind of betrayal of the thin sliver of trust Dean was extending to him now. He would do nothing to destroy that, or the slight hope that came with it.
His gaze snapped up, meeting Dean's, startled by the question. “Because he was the only one who could stop her.” His eyes slid away in shame, and he considered how to better answer the question. He knew Dean, and he knew he wanted more than just the simple, obvious answer. He wasn't just asking the obvious question, but a whole plethora of questions in the one simple sentence. And all of them, really, boiled down to 'why did you betray my trust in you.'
“Because no one else could, Dean. I didn't plan it. The opportunity presented itself, and I had to take it. I wouldn't let that happen to Sam again. And you?” He paused, forcing himself to meet the hunter's searching gaze, bright blue eyes hiding nothing of how he felt, not this time, masking none of his determination and sheer protectiveness, but also not hiding the broken, used mess he'd become, even before Lucifer had happened to him. “My brother would have used you up and left you empty. You aren't his vessel, you were never meant to be. He would have destroyed you. I couldn't let that happen, Dean.”
He laughed then, mirthlessly, a sound so very out of place coming from him. “You're the hero of the story, you and Sam. Me? I was never anything but a broken, used up tool ready to be discarded.” Cas slumped, what little determination and force of will that had been present draining away, though he managed to continue to hold Dean's gaze. “Expendable. I thought, perhaps, I could be of one small use before I was done with.”
DEAN-- Dean shifted back, crossing his arms as he listened to Castiel speak, a frown dancing over his features before softening. He shook his head a bit, “I would have tried my damnedest,” he spoke up in defense of himself, knowing that Castiel was right. His shoulders slumped a bit, “it would have been better than you two destroying yourselves to…” He stopped himself as he tried to search for words to explain everything that was bottled up inside. He never liked talking about feelings, it made more sense to just let things be.
They all worked themselves out somehow, not always for the best.
But that didn’t matter.
He rolled his shoulders, ready to say something when Castiel continued on, verbally beating himself down. He pushed himself off the table, “Castiel,” he started, trying to pick out some more words, but everything sounded so stupid. “Cas…” He tried again, moving toward him, not breaking that gaze. “Not expendable.” He snorted softly, “don’t you understand you mean everything?” He frowned a bit, that sounded sappy, he knew it.
“Things make sense.” He tried again, fuck, it was still sappy.
“I’m not saying things right,” he finally ended up closer to Castiel, still a bit away from him instead of breaking the personal space. He wasn’t sure of himself, or the words he wanted to say.
CASTIEL-- He watched the emotions play across Dean's face, growing distantly concerned over it. Dean just didn't show emotions like that, or, at least, didn't unless they involved Sam, the one person Dean cared about above all others. But Sam...wasn't even here. Sam was...alright, wasn't he? Where in the world was he, anyway? With Dean looking so...well, disturbed, upset, it must mean something was wrong with Sam. It was, honestly, the only explanation his mind could grasp for what he was seeing.
But thoughts of Sam vanished when Dean said his true, full name, again. Twice in such a short span of time, when he could often go months or more without ever speaking it. Somehow, something about the way Dean said his name just made him stop, his thoughts stuttering to a halt, as though his mind froze up and had to reboot.
All he could do was watch Dean approach him, silently, just...waiting, eyes almost burning with the intensity with which he stared. He wasn't even sure what he was waiting for, but it felt vitally important in that moment that he wait for Dean, for his words, for his approach, for...whatever Dean wanted to give him.
Then again, that had become a state of being for the angel, waiting for whatever Dean was willing to share with him. Dean was...his purpose, in ways even serving Heaven had never quite been. Even when he'd been essentially exiled from the bunker, from Dean's presence, he'd continued to cling to his purpose, his need, to serve Dean in whatever small ways he could...even if it had meant the pain of that exile.
“Not expendable.” A slight wince at that painful word, even if Dean was trying to tell him the kind lie that he wasn't.
”Don’t you understand you mean everything?” A widening of ocean-blue eyes, quickly turning to a confused squint as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the words.
“Things make sense.” Head canting to the side, eyes searching the hunter's face for some clue to something he felt was just beyond his grasp.
It was like a dam burst. Whatever had kept Cas locked in place broke free, confusion replaced with action, uncertainty with determination. Something in the angel's eyes flashed, a blue-white glow showing briefly before he regained the momentarily lost control over the grace swirling restlessly in reaction to his equally swirling emotions.
He closed the distance between them, ignoring the personal space around Dean as though it wasn't something that applied to him – as, in a way, it never really had. Silence stretched out as he searched Dean's eyes deeply, leaning forward a bit, getting that slightest bit closer, lacking in all concern for whatever protest the hunter might try to form about it. Then, he straightened, seemingly having found whatever he was searching for.
“Then say things right,” he said, something in his stern voice commanding in a way that heralded back to the days when he was still a soldier of Heaven, the force of what he was, what he truly was behind the simple words. In this moment, he wasn't the broken, fallen angel, or the expendable and discarded tool. In responding to some instinct he didn't understand but couldn't bring himself to question, he was something other, an angel in every way. “Tell me what you really mean, Dean.”
DEAN-- Dean took a step back when he saw the flare flicker through Castiel’s eyes, his lips twisting as he studied Castiel for that split second. “There you are,” he murmured, a surprised little note to his voice as he waited for Castiel to finish yelling at him. This was the Castiel he remembered meeting all those years ago. Had it really been that long, he asked himself while standing there. Castiel was upset, understandably so – so was Dean, he wasn’t saying things right and it was frustrating.
“I’m trying to say it right,” Dean snapped back at him, an injured tone entering his voice. “This isn’t easy, you know.” He splayed his hands, “Sammy is good at saying what he thinks. You are too. I’m just…” He searched for words while his hands stayed out, “I just nod and smile.”
He stopped, twisting himself away from Castiel, staring down at the floor. “You don’t get it, do you? I –“
“Dean?” Sam called out.
Dean blinked, turning back toward Castiel, looking up at the stairs. When had Sammy come in so quietly? Usually he was noisy as all hell in the bunker, it was their safe place. And why did he choose to come downstairs now, of all times? “Yeah?”
“Everyone good?”
Dean looked away from Sam to Castiel, searching his eyes, considering. “Yeah,” he finally spoke, “I’m going to get us some beer.”
CASTIEL-- Dean snapped at him, irritation lashing out to flay Castiel to the bone. Or, at least, that's how it felt. Gone instantly was the brief determination, replaced again with the hesitation, the fear, the desperate longing. Gone was the angel of the past, leaving once more only the broken being he'd become. He seemed to almost fold in on himself as Dean searched for words, cringing away slightly. Yet, even then, he couldn't take his eyes off the hunter. It had been far too long, and he just couldn't get enough of the sight of him, even now.
No, he thought to himself, at first. He didn't get it at all. Dean was struggling to say something, something that must be important, if he was willing to even try to talk about something that so obviously had him struggling with feelings he was normally unwilling to speak about, or, often, even think about. He squinted at Dean, even when he turned away, trying to understand. But, while he knew deep down it was important, whatever was happening here, any understanding of it remained just out of his reach.
His thoughts were interrupted by the startling sound of Sam's voice. He found himself stepping back away from Dean, even as Dean turned back toward him. A look that could only be described as guilty crossed his face as he glanced up to see Sam coming down the stairs, watching the pair of them with a guarded expression. Cas' eyes slipped away from Sam before he could meet his eyes, the tiniest flush warming his cheeks. He could only nod mutely, though he felt that things were far from 'good.'
Without any real thought on his part, the angel's eyes ended up drifting back to meet with Dean's, held there while the hunter searched for something within them. He blinked when Dean spoke, looking down at his feet, eyes remaining there even as Dean brushed past him on his way to the kitchen, and Sam approached.
“Cas?” Sam's voice was low and concerned, as he came to lean against a bookcase a few feet from Castiel. Still, the angel was unable to raise his eyes and meet Sam's. Castiel just offered the faintest lift of his shoulders in a stiff shrug, standing in nearly the middle of the library awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to say to Sam, nor even entirely how he felt about what had to have been a ploy to get Cas and Dean together in the same room, after so long.
Finally, after the silence drug out without Sam saying anything else, the angel spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn't have lied to Dean, Sam. I already betrayed him, at least...in his mind. Don't let anything come between the two of you. Especially don't let something come between you, if that something is me.”
Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet Sam's, as the sound of the refrigerator door slamming shut and the clinking of bottles drifted in from the kitchen. “He needs you. You need each other, Sam.” Cas let the conversation with Dean replay in his mind then, but he could still make no sense of it. With a sigh, he looked away from Sam, back down to the floor, shoulders hunched, misery fixed on his features, and in every line of his body.
“Cas, you idiot,” Sam said shaking his head. He looked, then, like he was about to say more, when his head shot up as Dean reentered the library, carrying, Sam noted – though Cas never looked up to see – three bottles of beer with him.
DEAN-- Dean’s shoulder still burned from where it had come into contact with Castiel’s while he had stormed off toward the kitchen. Everything was still spinning around in his head, he was trying to make sense of it while stuffing all of the thoughts back into their little boxes. He had no time for emotions, they screwed you up. But it was Castiel, he needed to know dammit. Dean huffed out an annoyed breath while entering the kitchen, standing there for a moment while he tried to remember why he was there.
Once he remembered, he took in a deep breath, nodding slowly. Why couldn’t I tell him, he wondered, why is it so complicated? I love you isn’t such a crazy phrase.
But `love` was the word in the phrase that fucking complicated things. Would Castiel even understand what Dean meant if he ever said it? Anyway, that’s not even an option anymore, not with Sammy coming in and interrupting things – that was how things were supposed to go. They had to grin and bear it, pretend that things weren’t complicated and that Castiel was back; things would go along swimmingly again.
A grunt spilled from his lips as he opened the fridge, grabbing three beers, slamming the door closed. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, taking another deep breath, exhaling before he left the kitchen. Play it cool, nothing happened, some emotions spilled and now they’d be stuffed back down. It wasn’t like they were getting married.
Jesus.
He came back in, offering Sam a beer, then tapping Castiel on the arm with the second one. “What are we talking about now?” He looked at Sam, “are you still supposed to see your friend?” He gave a tight little smile that spoke volumes of warning to his brother, so Dean hoped. “Oh, and you get to call Garth about koo-koo lady.” He looked over to Castiel, “there’s this case, people go missing without a trace – we finally found a body only because of this chick…” He trailed off, remembering her voice `eyes of ocean…`
Clearing his throat, he shook his head, looking at Sammy. “She’s the real deal though, I thought that only happened with yellow-eyes.” He fell silent, pulling from his bottle before shifting to go sit on one of the tables. He wanted to tell Castiel all about the trance the woman had gone into, how she had talked about him.
CASTIEL-- Startled, Cas looked up at the touch of the cold bottle against his shoulder, felt even through all the layers of cloth he wore. Out of long habit, he reached for the bottle, then hesitated before opening it, uncertainty with the seemingly sudden change of atmosphere leaving him at a loss. Dean wasn't fumbling, trying to make Castiel understand something he hadn't been able to grasp. Yet, he wasn't looking at him with distrust and betrayal anymore. It was almost as though he past couple years hadn't happened at all.
Almost.
He tried to follow what Dean was telling Sam – missing entirely the pointed look Dean gave Sam. He was hopelessly confused, but content to merely listen. The easy familiarity of Dean's voice explaining washed over him, soothing him, allowing him to relax. He wouldn't kid himself that he'd been forgiven, but...he'd take this bit of peace, for now, before he was forced to leave back into exile again.
When he felt Dean's eyes on him – and he could always feel it when Dean's eyes were fixed on him – he looked up slowly. His head tilted as he listened, something in the hunter's expression, something so subtle he wondered if even Sam would catch it, made him scrutinize Dean closely, taking a step forward, and then another, without even being aware of it. Even when Dean turned his attention back to Sam, Castiel continued to study him, eyes at first squinted in puzzled concentration, and then going wide.
He went still, his mouth opening, then closing, then finally opening again to speak. “What did she see? What did she tell you, Dean?” He could feel Sam's gaze on him, surprised at the tone in Cas' voice, the rumble of it threaded with tension. But he ignored his friend just then, all of his focus, intense and filled with some nameless power, for Dean and Dean alone in that moment. Again, he was running on pure instinct, instincts that often only arose around the hunter he fell for, instincts that he had never been able to ignore or deny.
DEAN-- Dean put up a hand, “down boy,” he quirked his lips in slight amusement at Castiel; it was nice to have him back, even if it meant dealing with his intensity. “I’ll get to it in a sec,” he reached out his hand toward Castiel’s bottle, “I forgot,” he gave a soft smile that was meant for Castiel; offering to drink the beer so Cas wouldn’t have to pretend to be human. He shifted back on the table, taking a couple more pulls from his own bottle, almost done.
Sam watched Castiel cross the floor and cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair with his free hand. “I’m going to go…” He trailed off, trying to think of an excuse so he wouldn’t have to watch this scenario. Castiel was dense, his brother was an idiot; he didn’t need to watch this boat sink. “I’m going to call Garth,” he tilted his bottle at them as a salutation before moving toward the door. As he moved, he was pretty sure that neither one even noticed him leaving.
Dean nodded at Sam, glancing over at him, “tell him I said hi and keep avoiding silver bullets,” he chuckled to himself over the little joke he had made. His eyes flicked over to Castiel, “remember, he went wolfy on us.” He waited for any laughs, shaking his head when he got none, this was a tough crowd, he thought while he finished off his beer.
Sam just nodded at the comment, letting out a half-hearted chuckle as he exited.
Dean looked back at Castiel, “she saw you,” he put his hand on the back of his neck to rub at it to get through the awkward feeling that was slipping over you. “She said all she could see were feathers, light, and you,” he rolled his shoulders, “she couldn’t see them in complete pictures.” Dean lifted his head, squinting, “I think she’s the real deal, she saw your eyes. `Eyes like Ocean, but deeper.`”
A shake of his head, “she had wanted to say more, but I had to shake her off, she was getting crazy.”
CASTIEL-- Remembering himself, Cas ducked his head and gave the bottle to Dean wordlessly. Not that he would have objected to drinking it, not really. So much time spent in the Winchester's presence tended to accustom one to alcohol and coffee both, and he'd acquired a bit of a taste for the particular combinations of molecules typically within them.
He raised his head again, looking to Sam, absently wondering what had him so bothered, but...his mind was still too focused on Dean, and what Dean had heard from the psychic. Something, some deeply rooted instinct was telling him there was something incredibly important about it. Something that filled him with a dark dread.
Cas merely stared at Dean as he attempted to make a joke. And Cas did realize it was meant to be a joke, and that he was meant to laugh. Some part of him even wondered at that, at what had changed to shift Dean into acting as though – again – things were as though nothing had happened over the past couple of years. He knew it was a subject that would still need to be dealt with, where he stood with Dean, really, and where they stood with each other. Briefly, he remembered looking at his old car, and how it had gleamed like gold in the harsh lights of the garage, as though freshly polished. But this time, he wondered if it actually had been. Could it be...that Dean had missed him, yet hadn't called upon him for some reason out of his grasp of understanding?
Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the present, and to the issue at hand.
He listened intently, trying to puzzle out what it meant. It seemed innocuous enough, and what little Dean said could have applied to him. “Feathers,” he said slowly, a little surprised. He had them, of course, a full set of wings, though few humans were ever allowed to see more than the shadows of them. But there was no harm in the sight, they were merely... Well, it was a private thing, a cultural taboo, of sorts, among angels, to show fully manifested wings to a human. Besides, his were...nothing he'd ever want to show, midnight black with hints of silver and gold, proof of the agonizing touch of hellfire.
Shaking his head again at his own lack of focus, he turned attention to the rest of what Dean had said. “Light could be...so many things,” he said, shrugging that off for the moment. He could only assume it wasn't his true form, or the woman would be blinded, or dead. Unless she was one of the rare humans that could perceive an angel's true form unscathed, but he considered that unlikely.
“My...eyes?” He tilted his head, stepping closer to where Dean sat on the edge of the table, not even thinking about it as he did it. “Eyes like Ocean, but deeper,” Cas repeated, something in the rumble of his voice giving the words a depth, a resonance, that made them seem almost unearthly. “There was more, Dean, wasn't there?” His eyes, those same eyes of deep ocean-blue, were locked to Dean's vivid green as he closed the rest of the distance between them.
“I...this feels important.” He grasped for some way to explain the dread the words filled him with, a deep fear for Dean's safety that overrode any worries – for the moment – of the issue of his forgiveness, or welcome, or even the confusing welter of emotions he felt at being in Dean's presence again.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 24, 2016 18:22:17 GMT -8
DEAN-- Dean jerked his head back, taking a pull from Castiel’s beer before he gave a curious quirk of his eyebrows at how intense Cas was being – well, more intense than usual. When he finished the drink, he rubbed at his lips with the back of one of his head, shaking his head while rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not sure if it was important, she kept talking about…” He hesitated, “well, I assumed it was you because there’s only one Angel that I bother talking to.” He held up the bottle while putting up both hands in a defensive gesture, “no offense, but you lot are dicks.” He paused, “not all of you,” he ducked his head as he amended his statement, looking down at his bottle to hide the creeping warmth that came from the collar of his shirt.
He cleared his throat, still looking at his bottle, worrying the label with a thumb. “She said lifetimes together, but only one life,” he glanced up at him, studying Castiel. “Whatever that meant,” a soft chuckle spilling from his lips as he returned his focus onto the label. “Most loyal shadow, even in the darkness.”
He was trying to pretend he didn’t remember all of it, that he needed to fumble to recall her words. “Fallen, but,” he trailed off as he looked back up, finishing his sentence, “not quite broken.” He wanted to stand up, but Castiel was dangerously close. The last time they had been this close… He had to stop that thought as he could feel the touch of Castiel’s still on his cheek. “What do you think all that nonsense means?” He squinted a bit, focusing on the bottle again.
CASTIEL-- He merely watched as Dean drank, patient despite his growing unease, sensing that the hunter wasn't so much avoiding answering as he was, well, perhaps gathering his thoughts. His eyes moved to follow the path of Dean's hand against his lips, captivated by the simple, everyday gesture, before finally pulling his eyes back up to meet Dean's again.
The insult toward his siblings, his entire kind, essentially, brought with it the usual stab of pain, faint though it was. But, he couldn't entirely argue Dean's assessment, either. Cas knew, of course, that there were plenty of angels who weren't nearly as bad as Dean thought, but...his exposure to them came in the form of Castiel, Anna, and...almost entirely otherwise that those who had sought to use or manipulate the Winchesters – or Castiel himself – in some form or another. It was something he was used to hearing from both brothers, really. But, at least this time Dean softened the blow by making Cas the single implied exception to his opinion of angels in general, causing his lips to quirk in the briefest of smiles to show he took no real offense.
He allowed the words Dean spoke to spill over him, giving each due consideration. His head canted to the side, and he squinted in puzzlement. Slowly, choosing his words with care, Cas responded. “Perhaps...all of it doesn't refer to me,” he said, quite clearly unable to see how most of the words could possibly apply to himself. Still, he felt a strange tightness in his chest as the words ran though his mind again, and then again.
Silence drew out as he struggled to make some sense of the psychic's words, then he huffed out a breath, frustration replacing the confusion. “There must have been more to it than that.” He paused, then sighed. “Or, I was wrong, and this...this feeling is nothing but...” He slumped, turning away and letting his words trail off, leaving the rest unsaid except in the silences of his mind. '...desperation to be useful again.'
DEAN-- “She said it was like puzzles whenever she got visions,” Dean began, crinkling his nose a little bit as he put the bottle down as he grew tired of having it in his hands. “It’s never really clear,” he paused, looking at Castiel, “that’s why I believe her.” He flexed his fingers, reaching over to Castiel, only to have him turn away. Dean wanted to ease the frustration that so clearly lined Castiel’s features and body, but he really wasn’t sure how; or what was the right thing to do in this situation. Sammy was the one with the gift for words and making people happy again.
When Castiel moved away from him, Dean gave in to an impulse and stood up and hurried over to Castiel, shifting to slip up behind him. He said nothing as he wrapped Castiel from behind, holding him in his arms.
“Even if it may not be about you, it was all I could think of after I heard her,” he murmured quietly from behind, unsure how Castiel would take all this. His body was tense with waiting, he wasn’t sure if Castiel would reject him or accept the touch. “Your eyes, your wings, how you’ve always been around, like a bad penny,” Dean gave a soft chuckle at that.
CASTIEL-- He halted not far from Dean, though his back was still turned to the hunter. Even in the misery of feeling he was of no use, and would likely be sent away because of that, he couldn't bear to be further from Dean than he had to be. All he could do was stand there, tense, hands fisted up at his side, trembling faintly.
Oh, there was at least one line of what the psychic said that he felt could have applied to him, but only if Dean had gotten the words wrong. 'Fallen, but not quite broken,' he thought to himself, should be something closer to 'Fallen, and completely broken.' Though he wished he wasn't, he was fully aware of just how broken he truly was. After all, it had been said to him, in various forms, again and again, leading up to saying 'yes' to Lucifer and his brother making it perfectly clear to him just how broken he really was.
Castiel jerked, startled, when arms came to wrap around him, holding him close in a firm, yet comforting embrace. Almost immediately, he found himself relaxing into the embrace, hands unclenching, leaning back against Dean, even as he tried to grasp that this was actually happening, and Dean was...touching him, hugging him, rather than sending him away as useless and unneeded.
His head drooped forward, the trembling slowly fading away, Dean's words soothing him further, even as they confused him. He remained still, considering the words, the situation, then let a sigh fall from parted lips. He pulled his head up, letting it fall back to rest on the hunter's shoulder, then turning it slightly to the side so that he could see Dean's face out of the corner of his eye. He bit his lip in indecision, then...
“You were all I could think about,” he admitted quietly, hesitantly. “Not just after...I had to go away.” He paused again, waiting for...well, he wasn't sure what. Rejection, being told he wasn't wanted, he truly wasn't sure at this point. But, finally, he gathered courage and spoke again, even though he knew the subject was a dangerous one, potentially...to his own stability, if nothing else. “While Lucifer... I... I thought of you and it kept me....sane, of a sort,” Castiel finally finished, floundering.
He went still, then, squinting, his eyes searching Dean's...or what he could see from his position. “But I don't understand what a coin has to do with it, Dean. Even...one that is somehow unacceptable.” It was said in perfect seriousness, with no trace of understanding for the phrase.
DEAN-- “Yeah?” Dean cocked his head some to study Castiel’s profile while his lips formed a slight smile, he rather liked the fact that Cas was relaxing in his arms; it meant that he hadn’t made the wrong decision. Dean shifted around a bit to settle his arms around Castiel, not wanting to move in fear of breaking the spell. He was even breathing slowly, almost in disbelief that this was happening; furthermore, more surprised at himself for making a bold move like this.
He gave a soft laugh at Castiel, “It’s a human saying,” Dean shifted a bit, leaning his head against Castiel’s, another laugh rumbling from him. “It means that you’re there all the time, even when people least expect you to be.” Dean fell silent, smiling a bit to himself, “you really thought of me?” He cleared his throat, “why?” He blinked, wondering how he could keep someone sane, it made no sense to himself.
He was just Dean, your average guy and hunter of things that went bump in the night.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 25, 2016 23:20:42 GMT -8
CASTIEL-- Dean's arms shifted, ever so slightly, around him, and he found his lips tugging into a lazy smile, faint though it was. “Oh,” he replied, the simple word barely a murmur as he considered the meaning of this new phrase. He decided this one pleased him, especially the way it had been used, and the tone with which Dean had said it. It all indicated, to Cas anyway, that it was meant as a good thing, in Dean's view. And...really, the hunter's view was the only one that mattered to Castiel.
Just when he thought he was getting a grip on the nuances of all the thousands of idioms and sayings and strange ways of phrasing things particular to human speech in this part of the world in this time in history, something else always came up that he didn't know. It was frustrating, yet...this was one of the rare times Dean chose to indulge him in a real, honest explanation, instead of merely laughing or rolling his eyes at the angel's ignorance.
So it was he was flushed with the pleasure of what he felt was a compliment, no matter how disguised it might be, when he nodded slowly in response to Dean's questions, closing his eyes as the rasp of his stubble dragged across Dean's skin with the slight motion where his head rested against Castiel's.
Briefly, oh-so-briefly, he considered brushing off the questions. The answer, if he were to be honest with Dean, would probably result in Cas being pushed away, in protests of the rule about 'chick-flick' moments...or, even worse, outright rejection of the angel's presence. And he was so comfortable right now, in this moment, the madness, that sense of being broken utterly and fully, that had threatened ever since that fateful 'yes' nothing but a dim hum in the furthest reaches of his mind.
But he couldn't lie to Dean. Not anymore; not even if it meant being sent away again.
“I did, yes. I...” He froze up then, stiffening in the hunter's embrace, memories he couldn't quite deal with threatening to overwhelm him. Only the warmth of Dean's arms around him, his chest against Castiel's back, the solid, real feeling of Dean simply being there, all of that was what ultimately kept him from drowning in the nightmarish memories, as had happened to him so often in his exile of the past year.
Yet, it was that very same feeling of Dean's embrace that ultimately brought the situation crashing down on him. He squirmed out of the hunter's embrace, taking a few steps forward before he couldn't bear to move any further away. His head drooped low, fighting the shame he suddenly felt at showing his weakness to Dean so starkly. But...he forced himself to calm, as much as he could, enough to give Dean the answer he deserved. At least, like this, with his back turned and his head lowered, he didn't have to see Dean, didn't have to see whatever sneer for that weakness might be twisting his lips even now, didn't have to see the mocking look he was sure was present in his eyes.
“Because I fell for you.” He hesitated, fists clenching, then relaxing. When he continued, the broken tone was gone from his rough voice, the tone more detached and distant. “Angels are designed to have a purpose, did you know that? It's built into us, like a...need. We have a purpose, and we serve it.”
Slowly now, he turned, eyes seeking out Dean's, meeting them with determination, with the memory of his lost purpose. “You...have been my purpose, for such a long time, Dean. Ever since I fell, since I chose to take that leap. You were my purpose. What else could I possibly have held to? When everything else was lost, when what I had done – for better or worse – tore me apart, when I was...”
Cas swallowed, closing his eyes, now unable to meet Dean's gaze. “When I was trapped and helpless, when my brother was ripping at my grace and tormenting me with visions of the destruction of everything I cared about...I clung to the knowledge that you were safe, that I spared you what I was suffering...and worse.” Ocean-blue eyes, intense and clear, opened again, and he straightened, the faintest hint of his old pride and self-assurance showing. “I kept to my purpose, Dean. I kept you safe. Of course you were what I thought of. How could it have ever been otherwise?”
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 27, 2016 8:51:28 GMT -8
DEAN-- When Castiel stepped out of Dean’s arms, he felt a sense of rejection almost immediately, his arms still hovering in the air for a moment before they dropped to his sides. His shoulders slumped a bit as he tried to keep his eyes on Castiel – he had been enjoying the closeness that had been stolen and allowed all at the same time. Dean shifted back on his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets just so he could have something to do with them. It was hard to keep himself restrained, especially right now with Castiel so close yet so far away.
“Castiel,” he started before he got cut off by Castiel, his mouth closing as he understood it wasn’t his turn to talk.
Dean’s lips twisted into an expression of sadness as he heard Castiel slip away from him – he could hear the coldness in that voice. Dean wanted to say something, anything, to bring Castiel back to the present. A slight shake of his head as he waited for a natural stopping point so he could say something, but it seemed like Castiel was intent on letting everything out. Dean watched Castiel’s body as his fingers twitched in his pockets, fighting the urge to step in close to wrap him up in his arms again.
Dean straightened up with a slight look of hope in his eyes as Castiel turned around, meeting Castiel’s eyes, searching as he tried to figure out what to say. He never thought about Angels having a purpose beyond serving Heaven. He crinkled his nose a slight bit as he gave a slow nod to Castiel. “Is that why you went away?” Dean squinted as he rocked a bit on his feet, pulling his hands out of his pockets, “when I told you to go… I made you lose that purpose?”
He was truly trying to understand, but this confused him. Also the distance stretching between them made him unsure, he had reached out and there Castiel was, not in his arms. “You’re everything, you know that?” Dean gave a chuckle, moving a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. “Everyone says that when you’re gone, I’m not really here.” He made a face at the words he was saying, it sounded wrong coming from his lips, but there it was – the words were falling. “What I’m saying is…” He groped for words as he looked down at his feet, avoiding Castiel’s gaze. “I’m glad you’re back,” he winced at himself, that was totally not what he was trying to say – or wanted to say.
CASTIEL-- He held Dean's gaze for a moment, then his eyes slipped away and shame briefly crossed his face. “Yes,” he answered simply, voice low and rough, still determined to hide nothing. He had no intention to hurt the hunter with his admission, and, in truth, he fervently hoped that Dean would be able to just accept it as a fact, something in the past. After all, Castiel had forgiven him for being rejected, being sent away, for his entire world crashing down around him when he'd needed his surrogate family the most...he'd forgiven that nearly the moment it had occurred, and every moment since. He'd only awaited the chance, the slim hope that Dean might forgive him in turn.
“You’re everything, you know that?”
His eyes shot back to meet Dean's, unsure that what he'd thought he'd heard had actually been said. He stood there, head tilted to the side, squinting, everything about him focused – with much of his old intensity – on what the hunter was saying to him. When Dean's eyes slipped away from his, somehow, he caught a glimmer of understanding. Dean's discomfort...since he'd come into the bunker to find Cas there, the angel had thought that it must be some of his anger over what had happened, over Castiel's seeming betrayal, lingering. But, he suddenly understood it wasn't anger. Dean wasn't angry with him even more. Not even the comforting contact of Dean's earlier embrace had convinced him of this, but now... Now it was different.
He considered for just a moment, then decided to take a risk. After all, his life had been almost nothing but risk after risk, ever since he'd laid his hand on Dean's soul in Hell, and pieced him back together with his own grace and will. Why should this be any different?
Castiel stepped forward, surety of purpose giving his movements a confident grace he'd lacked of late. He moved into the generally prohibited bubble of personal space he'd been lectured on repeatedly, reflecting on the realization that it had been protests that had slowly lessened over time, and not only because he'd tried harder to fight the natural attraction he'd always felt in the Righteous Man's presence, but because Dean had also uttered such protests less and less as time went on.
“I didn't know. I...didn't know, but,” he paused, gaze roving over Dean's face, so close now he would only have to lean forward the slightest bit to be pressed against the hunter. Yet, he hovered just out of range of that, restraining himself. “I'm glad I'm back, too” The words were now barely above a murmur, wondering, as though they were words he couldn't even believe himself he was being allowed to say.
Almost against his own volition, his thoughts were drawn back to the gleaming gold Continental sitting in the bunker's garage, and something occurred to him. “Dean? My...car. It was you, wasn't it? You cleaned it, polished it?” It, he had enough awareness to realize, might seem a strange thing to ask just now, but...he had a need to know, and he felt that...given Dean, and Dean's particular ways of showing he cared for those few he let close enough, it was the right question to ask.
To Castiel, it was simple. Dean cared about the Impala, he even loved her. The Impala was a part of Dean. Castiel had learned that same love, and applied it to his car, once he came to own one. His Continental was a part of him. When he'd abandoned his car, instead of sitting neglected, she'd been kept clean, and, he suspected now, kept serviced and in good working order. Dean...had cared, even after he sent Cas away. And he showed that in his own way, by caring for her the way he couldn't care for Castiel himself.
Cas asked, because he needed that verification of his theory, yet...somehow, he knew even as he asked that he was right. Dean cared about him. Dean might even...love him. And it was only thinking about this that Castiel realized the devotion, the loyalty, the purpose had, at some point along the way, become...love.
DEAN-- He could hear Castiel move, his eyes flicked upwards to watch Castiel with a curious quirk of his eyebrows. Dean felt like there was electricity in the air, he could swear that he saw sparks arcing between them as Castiel stepped closer; Dean had to remind himself to actually breathe. He swallowed a bit in an attempt to clear his throat – his mouth was dry all the sudden, and his hands got clammy. What the hell, it was almost as if he was a teenager again.
“Castiel?” He questioned as he searched Castiel’s eyes, trying to find an answer without really asking the questions.
Castiel was so close now, it wouldn’t take much now to close the distance between them; all he had to do was take a half-step in and that would be it. He gave a soft chuckle as he heard about the damn car that Castiel just had to have. “You saw that?” Dean’s lips twisted into a sheepish grin, “she runs really good, not as good as Baby, but…” He trailed off, rolling his shoulders in pleasure that Castiel had noticed, “do you wanna go look?” The sheepish smile turned into a pleased one, he reached out and took Castiel’s hand, tugging slightly, “don’t say no.” It was a slight plea as he looked away from those Ocean-blue eyes towards the doors that would lead to the garage.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 27, 2016 13:56:20 GMT -8
CASTIEL-- “I...saw, yes.”
Castiel relaxed, lips quirking in amusement at Dean's seemingly sudden change in demeanor. This...this was pure Dean, this was the hunter he followed, and fell for, as much as – if not more than – the hesitant, self-conscious man struggling to say things he wasn't used to trying to express. He was still, deep down, afraid that he wasn't yet forgiven, that he wasn't yet welcome to stay, but...he was starting to have hope, now.
He opened his mouth, a refusal ready on his tongue, when Dean grasped his hand. The refusal died unspoken, his eyes darting down to his hand in Dean's, then back up to look at the hunter. Dean's eyes were turned away, though, and he took that moment to let his eyes rove once more over Dean's form, taking in everything, as he'd not been able to do for so long. Too long. Cas sighed, a sound of willing acceptance, and smiled. “I'd like that very much.”
Bemused, he let Dean lead him to the garage, briefly wondering as they went where Sam had gotten off to. He had his suspicions, again, that Sam set this all up on purpose, and that there wasn't any urgent need for Cas to be here to do anything...except, perhaps, exactly what he was doing. But he kept his suspicion to himself, at least for now. It wasn't the time. But, he decided, he wouldn't forget it, and he would have to do something about it, though whether that be mentioning it to Dean, or confronting Sam, he wasn't quite sure yet.
They came into the garage, and Cas stopped, his breath catching and his hand tightening on Dean's. The Impala sat there in her usual spot, a faint sheen of dust overlaying her gleaming paint, dulling her faintly. But not even the dust could mar her beauty. It was then that Cas realized he really had come to see her as an extension of Dean, a part of him. To see her there, now, in her rightful place, a space that had been empty only a few hours ago...well, if he'd been asked, he wouldn't have been able to describe the feelings overwhelming him.
He pulled his hand from Dean's, moving over to the Impala, Dean's Baby, slowly, an attitude of reverence overcoming him. When he reached her, he stopped, and reached out the same hand that had so recently been held by the hunter, and laid it, still warmed by Dean, against her hood. He stood there, head bowed, eyed slipping closed, and took a deep breath. Home. That's what it was. The Impala, the bunker, and, most especially....Dean. This was home.
Unaware he was even doing it aloud, he murmured the words as he'd thought them. “Dean...this is home.”
DEAN-- Dean keenly felt the absence of Castiel’s hand when he pulled away, a little twitch of his lips as he wanted to grab after him. However, he managed to restrain himself by tucking his hands into his pockets again. His eyes latched onto Castiel as the Angel moved to the Impala, “she’s dirty,” he fretted from where he stood, near the door. “I’ll have to wash her,” a frown sliding over his face, “in a bit.” He wasn’t going to give up his time with Castiel, not right now.
Shifting back on his feet, he decided not to say anything more as he kept watching Castiel as he put his hand on the hood. Dean bit at his bottom lip while pondering what to do next. He wanted to go to Castiel and just… Be near him.
But he didn’t.
A smile slipping back onto his lips, “it is. It’s more of home with you here though,” Dean tilted his head at Castiel. “Stay, we’ll give you a room, all of your own.” He wasn’t sure what more would sweeten the deal, so he stood there while flicking his eyes to his feet. “Please,” he finally added, “I’m not me when you’re gone.”
CASTIEL-- When Dean spoke, he turned to look at the hunter, eyes appraising, and widened slightly in surprise. He knew very well how Dean treasured the bunker, for the safety it allowed, and because it allowed him as close as he'd had to a true home – the Impala aside – since he was a young child. But for Dean to include the angel in that, to state so easily that Cas somehow made it more of a home...it gave him pause.
But it wasn't until Dean looked away from him, looking instead down to his feet, that Castiel finally shifted and broke the stare. In a burst of awareness, he recognized that Dean was uncomfortable, hopeful, and trying to hide that hope lest it be crushed. Dean...was afraid Cas would reject the offer, perhaps not understanding how precious it was to the angel, how it spoke to him of forgiveness – or, at least, the beginnings of it. Well then, Dean needed to be made to understand.
Cas approached the hunter, confidence replacing the last traces of hesitance. For this moment, he could almost allow himself to pretend the past year – and more, really – hadn't happened at all. Except...that if it hadn't, he sensed this moment, this day, might never have come at all. A human saying he'd once heard – or perhaps it was simply something he'd gained in the 'download' from Metatron, he honestly didn't know anymore – floated to his awareness as he came to stand before Dean. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. It seemed...very fitting, just now, and that as much as the renewed nearness to Dean caused his lips to twitch into a lopsided smile.
“Dean,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle, but with a steel underlying it that made it as much a command to gain the hunter's attention as it was anything else. “You only ever had to ask.” He reached out, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it briefly, an attempt at comforting him.
Then, hesitating only briefly to be sure of his decision, and the risk involved with it, he brought that same hand up to cup Dean's cheek, letting the pad of his thumb stroke the faint stubble there. Seeking to catch the hunter's gaze with his own, so that he could see Dean's reaction, and to make sure Dean could see the genuine resolve in his own eyes, he said simply, uncharacteristically, “I've been yours since the day I laid my hand on you in Hell, Dean Winchester. I've only been waiting for you to recognize that.”
DEAN-- Dean looked up when Castiel touched his shoulder, a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he found Castiel’s eyes. “I’m asking,” he scowled a bit at him, “you make things hard sometimes.” Dean’s scowl slipped away into a smile as one of his hands slipped out of his pocket to touch Castiel’s on the shoulder for a moment.
He could feel Castiel’s hand pull away, so Dean took his hand away, unsure what to do with it except to place it on Castiel’s side. It felt natural to be touching him like this, so he did.
Dean let Castiel guide his chin upward, his eyes flashing the curiosity he felt as he met Castiel’s eyes. There was something in there he hadn’t seen in a while, it was… Different. A good different. “Really?” He murmured, his lips twisting into a smile. “I’m an idiot,” another soft chuckle, “but I’m your idiot.” With that, he took the last step, slipping his arm around Castiel, allowing his other hand do the same. He needed to touch Castiel, just to hold him and be held.
“Mine,” he spoke under his breath in disbelief.
CASTIEL-- He couldn't help but laugh, a full, delighted laugh that crinkled the flesh around his eyes. “I don't think you'd believe it if it was easy.” There was a warmth to his tone that hadn't been present in quite awhile. Far too long, he realized. And it was a reflection of the warmth he felt deep inside, just at being near to Dean, to being allowed this without the weight of the world on both their shoulders, bearing them down, keeping them from being able to simply... be like this.
Castiel nodded slowly, solemnly, quietly delighting in Dean reaching out to touch him, without provocation, just...so easily, so naturally. It was right. “Truly.” Dean's chuckle caused him to smile, though, there was a solemnity to even that.
Strong, sure arms slipped around him, and he welcomed the touch, leaning against Dean gratefully. He shifted in the embrace, moving to wrap his arms around Dean in turn, finally, maybe, willing to let himself hope that he was forgiven, or...at least, that he was truly being given a chance to earn that forgiveness. And then.. ”Mine,” Dean said, barely more than an exhale, and Cas sighed.
“Yes, Dean, if you'll have me. If you can forgive me.”
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 27, 2016 21:55:05 GMT -8
DEAN-- Dean rocked back a little bit to look at Castiel with a little expression of surprise on his features. “What?” The surprised expression turned into a little frown, he shook his head while tightening his grip around Castiel. “I forgave you a long time ago, I just didn’t know it.” He bit at his bottom lip as he studied Castiel, shifting one hand arm from around him so he could stroke along the angel’s jawline with his knuckles.
“I’m just..” He rolled his shoulders, he really had no way of explaining himself – hell, he had no idea why. There were just times where he got it into his head about certain things and couldn’t let go. Sammy always called him the bulldog.
“So you’re really mine?” He decided it was best to change subjects, his hand still on Castiel’s jaw. “You won’t go anywhere?” It was still such a surprise that Castiel had said it. He considered this for a moment, not really waiting for Castiel’s response, “good.” He confirmed with a nod, “because I don’t want anything else.”
He hesitated, pressing his lips against each other as he wetted them. “Look, I…” He exhaled, “I’m tired. Can we just..” He trailed off, ducking his head a bit into Castiel’s shoulder, this was awkward, “can we just go lay down?” His hand trailed off from Castiel’s cheek to back around him, holding him close.
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Post by Cassiel on Feb 27, 2016 23:56:48 GMT -8
CASTIEL-- Cas stiffened when Dean pulled away, questioning what he'd said. But, he relaxed again almost immediately following Dean's tightened grip on him, and the words that quickly came after. In fact, he nearly melted against the hunter in relief. Cas leaned into the knuckles brushing against his jaw, stroking so gently, even tenderly, when he knew that same hand was capable of such strength and violence, when necessary.
When Dean began to speak again, only to let the abortive explanation die away into silence, Cas' lips tugged into a soft smile, holding the hunter's gaze steadily. He understood. He knew Dean so well, and he understood immediately what had been left unsaid. The why of it didn't really matter to Castiel anyway. Only the forgiveness mattered, only the acceptance of this, now, of allowing the closeness he'd always wanted, the touches he'd always longed to have and to give, often even before he understood what it was he was longing for.
Castiel's eyes had just begun to drift closed, still leaning into the touch against his jaw, when Dean spoke again. He opened his eyes slowly, lazily, to gaze silently at Dean. He was pleasantly surprised, and very pleased, when Dean didn't even wait for him to answer the questions, but merely accepted that he hadn't been lying. It was, he felt, a real change, one that he wasn't certain was only just in the moment, or something that had shifted more permanently. It showed, in his view, a more general acceptance and deeper trust in the angel than Dean had ever shown before; it warmed something deep within Castiel.
Dean's head came down to rest on his shoulder, and Cas found himself automatically leaning his cheek against him. The question puzzled him briefly, and he wondered if Dean had forgotten that he didn't need to sleep. Then, understanding dawned, and he chuckled softly, enjoying the feeling of arms wrapped around him, and his own arms around the hunter. And, he realized, the unspoken promise of more of the same, and the freedom to finally be able to watch Dean sleep without accusations of being 'creepy' anymore.
“Of course, Dean,” he replied, his normally gravelly voice even deeper, rougher, with raw emotion, desire even. Not of the carnal sort, for that hadn't even occurred to him, not truly. But a simple, innocent desire to be close to the hunter. To...and he finally dared think it, even if he wouldn't yet say it...his hunter, his human, his purpose, his...everything.
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Post by Cassiel on Mar 3, 2016 18:51:48 GMT -8
DEAN-- Dean woke with a start, he gave a soft groan as he shifted over in the bed to glance over at the clock. He squinted at the clock before rubbing at his face, he had slept longer than he expected. He just made a little sound, shifting around in bed before flopping on his back. When he did that, he realized he wasn’t alone in bed. “Uh,” Dean shifted a little more – a bit self-consciously – turning his head to look at the person in bed with him.
His heart gave a quick queer bound as he realized who it was next to him. “Hi,” he gave a shy smile, “I guess I fell asleep,” he shifted around so he could lay on his side to watch Castiel. It was so weird having him so close now. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” The shy smile turned into a casual one as he propped himself up on his shoulder.
So he hadn’t been dreaming, Castiel really did come to bed with him. They had spent some time talking before Dean apparently had fallen asleep mid-conversation.
CASTIEL-- He'd spent the night watching Dean. Nothing else, just propped quietly, still as only an angel could be, and watching. Castiel found that, with Dean so close, looking so peaceful and content, he could even avoid drifting off too far into thoughts that were generally better left alone. It was more than he could have asked for, and certainly more than he deserved. He was determined to bask in every moment of it.
Right up until Dean started to show signs of waking, stirring slightly at first. Then with a groan and a start, coming fully awake. But even then, he didn't take his eyes from the hunter, instead taking in every detail, every little movement and sound he made.
“Hello, Dean.” The familiar greeting, so long unsaid, still came so easily, bringing with it a whole other type of comfort. “Should I have,” he inquired, head canting to the side, every evidence of puzzlement written on his face. “You were sleeping without, ah, nightmares.” He knew, from conversations with Sam that Dean still had them frequently, and he was grateful that it hadn't been the case overnight. Though, he'd been prepared and entirely willing to pull Dean from them, had the need arisen.
Taking in Dean's sleep mussed appearance, a sudden wave of affection and fondness rose up, and Castiel found his lips curving into a soft, faint smile. “I...enjoyed guarding your sleep. You look very different when you sleep. Less...guarded, less closed off.”
He paused, clearly giving serious consideration to something, then huffed sigh. “Sam woke early, however. He said he was going into town for breakfast. Ah...and that if you behaved,” and his emphasis on the word was that of clear confusion, “he'd bring you back pie.”
DEAN-- “He told you about them, huh?” He made a little expression of distaste as he realized Sam told him about the nightmares, “what hasn’t he told you about me?” Dean shifted around a bit to get comfortable, he didn’t want to leave the bed while Castiel was there. It was kinda nice being able to sleep in then wake up to someone there. He ran his free hand over his face again to wake himself up, “and no nightmares, I think you kept them away,” he managed to croak out something that sounded smooth; but it was sincere at the same time.
Dean ducked his head a bit, “I don’t have to fight so much when I sleep,” he chuckled softly. “But also it’s nice waking up to you.”
He fell silent then laughed, “pie. Behave. Right,” he shifted again to flop on his back, one hand reaching out to find Castiel’s arm. “Does it bother you that we sleep and you can’t?”
CASTIEL-- He opened his mouth, fully prepared to start listing off all the things he'd truly wanted to know that Sam hadn't told him, be it because he'd been too cautious to ask, or because Sam – caught in the middle as he'd been – had skirted around answering. But, then, the angel caught himself, realizing it was what humans called a rhetorical question, an offshoot of Dean's tendency toward sarcasm. Instead, he simply said, “he worries about you.” There was the slightest pause, and then he added, “as do I.”
Castiel's flicked away, both pleased and embarrassed at once, and unsure how to handle the mostly unfamiliar latter emotion. “I did nothing, but I'm glad you found my presence helpful.” And there it was, that little flare of hope in his chest, that he had found something, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that would allow him to be of use to the hunter again.
Oh, he fully believed Dean when he'd said he wanted Cas to stay, but there was still some part of him that was just waiting to be turned away, again, if he wasn't of use. And this was such a simple thing he could do...and very enjoyable, besides. “I would be happy to be here when you sleep, and when you wake, whenever you wish it.”
He found his eyes drawn back to the hunter almost immediately. Even after so many years, and especially after the time of his...exile, of sorts, he just couldn't get enough of watching each minute change of Dean's expression, every shift of muscle beneath his skin, the way the light caught in his strikingly green eyes. And especially the glimpses he allowed himself of Dean's brilliant soul.
Fondness sparked again, lighting his eyes as he watched Dean shift around again. His lips twitched, recognizing that there was something there that, perhaps, each of the brothers understood in what Sam said that Castiel was missing. But, he was used to that, and it amused him as much as it left him helplessly frustrated that he would ever grasp all of the tiny nuances of the terms they often used.
Dean's hand found his arm, and he adjusted himself until his hand was grasping the hunter's lightly, instead. He gave it a gentle squeeze, considering how to answer the question, and if there was anything to it Dean wanted to know, but left unsaid. “No. You have to remember, sleep is...essentially foreign to me. Sleeping, that...is what bothers me. I've always wondered how humans can stand it, to be so...unaware, to require that state.” He hesitated, memories of his time as truly human surfacing, and all the pain and fear and misery that went along with it. “Even when I was human, sleep was hard for me. The hardest part of being human, I think.”
He paused once more, shifting again until he was laying down on his side, facing Dean, arm cocked so that he could continue holding the hunter's hand, finding it to be a very simple yet pleasant form of contact. “Dreams, however. As confusing and frightening as they could be, sometimes they were...also very pleasant.”
DEAN-- “Everyone worries about each other,” Dean pretended to grumble, though he was secretly pleased that Castiel admitted to worrying about him – the pleasure showed through the slight coloring of his cheeks. “I’ll be okay,” he gave a slow nod, “I just need to deal with a lot of stuff – it didn’t help that I wouldn’t pay attention to me.” Dean fell quiet, he had said too much and it was awkward to have this sort of verbal vomit; especially right after waking up.
He stayed silent for a moment, tucking his other arm behind his head, “I always want you here. I should have told you that a while back.”
Dean nodded slowly, “but that’s what helps us,” he squinted, “usually when there’s no nightmares. It helps me not have to think about everything that’s happened. It’s kinda like…” He tilted his head toward Castiel, “it’s like being amnesiac for a couple hours. It’s nice, then we wake up.” Dean let his fingers tangle with Castiel, “that has to be worse for you,” he frowned with concern; “especially when you went human and you didn't have…” He trailed off, not sure what to say – he worried about upsetting Cas. “Forget it, what did you do while I slept? Did you drive your car?” He grinned teasingly as he looked over at Castiel, so close now.
CASTIEL-- Castiel merely watched, watching the faint flush spread over the hunter's cheeks, and quite pleased himself to actually hear Dean admit that he didn't pay as much attention to his own well-being as he should. But, Cas knew better than to say anything about it, or Dean would be likely to just shut it down, and flee from the conversation. It was enough for the angel to know he was at least getting to a point of seeing that he needed to attend to his own well-being. As Cas had started learning himself in his time away, even the smallest step was still moving forward.
”I always want you here.” The admission slipped into the silence, and Cas found he couldn't help his lips tugging into a smile that was a bit lop-sided, eyes shining with wonder. He didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing Dean say that, not after...everything.
While he understood the biological reasons humans needed sleep, something about the way Dean tried to explain it, more from a psychological perspective, made Cas frown a momentarily in thought. Likening it to amnesia, which he still remembered far too clearly as having been very peaceful during it, but a bit terrifying afterward, helped him to understand somewhat.
Forgetting who and what you are – it was something that, unless tampered with in some way, angels were never able to do. But, as memories of the more pleasant dreams he'd had as a human came to mind – generally dreams of being reunited with Dean, of Dean accepting him and delivering him back to the bunker, to a home - he felt he might be able to begin to understand.
Cas let Dean's shift of subject pass without comment. He was well aware of where Dean had been going with what he was saying before he stopped himself. Somehow, it both saddened him, and left him feeling grateful for the change of subject. It was one of many incidents in their past that had never really been discussed, and probably never would be. Instead, he simply gave the hunter's hand, their fingers now entwined, a gentle squeeze in an attempt to reassure him that all was forgiven.
His lips twitched in response to Dean's grin, but he met and held the hunter's eyes, something within his own so serious and intense. “No. I watched over you.” Cas, drawn to the hunter, and unable to resist that pull any longer now that he was fully awake, reached out with his free hand to run the pads of his fingers against Dean's cheek. His eyes flicked to his own fingers, following them as he traced them down along the hunter's jaw with feather-light touches. Then, daring more than he thought possible, more than he'd ever imagined, Castiel let his fingers drift over Dean's bottom lip, the pad of his index finger just barely catching against the surprisingly soft skin there.
The angel pulled his hand away suddenly, gaze darting back up to meet with Dean's, apprehension in his eyes. He was unsure what Dean's reaction would be, unsure if there was something in Dean's rules against this, unsure if he'd gone too far, unsure...of nearly everything in that moment, except the always-present desire to simply be near Dean...always Dean.
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Post by Cassiel on Mar 4, 2016 19:15:35 GMT -8
DEAN-- “You did?” Dean tilted his head toward Castiel with a curious expression, “why? All I do is sleep. Sam says I snore.” Dean crinkled his nose, ready to say something else when he felt Castiel’s fingers touching him, his mouth closing again. This time, Dean didn’t tense up at the touch, he simply laid there was he let the touch consume him. Everywhere Castiel touched seemed to tingle, almost as if on fire.
Then Castiel’s finger caught Dean’s lips and he took in a breath, forgetting to exhale. That was kind of how it felt around Castiel, just forgetting how to breathe.
“What?” Dean asked, his voice low after Castiel pulled his finger away.
CASTIEL-- He hadn't answered any of the questions, instead sliding his eyes away, breaking the intense stare that was often all he could manage when confronted with anything that fascinated him about Dean. And...almost everything about Dean fascinated him, in some way or another. Finally, after a few moments of thought, his eyes drifted back up to meet with the hunter's. He had no good answer for the last question, and wasn't even sure which thing that had happened Dean was questioning – the touch, or the withdrawal of his hand so suddenly. In either case, though, Castiel had no good answer.
“You're...beautiful when you sleep,” the angel finally replied hesitantly. He was about to offer some of the reasons he enjoyed watching Dean sleep, when there came a knock on the door to the bedroom. Cas barely reacted other than dropping his eyes away from Dean again, breaking the moment. He'd been able to hear the distant sounds of the door between the bunker proper and the garage, and then the footsteps he easily identified as those of Sam approaching.
“Dean, we got a case,” Sam said through the door. “Sorry to interrupt,” Sam paused for several heartbeats, then even Dean would have been able to hear his sigh through the door before he continued, “whatever, but we need to go. Now. I'll meet you out at the car.”
Castiel sat up, refusing still to meet Dean's eyes, lest the hunter see the confusion there. He'd found himself wanting, again, without entirely understanding what it was he wanted. It was such an unfamiliar emotion, this want that bordered on need, and he wasn't sure what to do with it, or even what would be permissible. Once again, both human societal norms, and those particular to Dean himself, escaped him.
DEAN-- “You think a lot,” Dean remarked, his voice still low, he squeezed Castiel’s hand, “sometimes I wish you’d let me in.” When Castiel looked back, Dean met his eyes with a curious look.
“Beautiful?” A soft smile dancing over his lips, no one really called him beautiful. That wasn’t a word used to describe men. Well, sure, mothers used it to describe their sons – but Dean couldn’t imagine himself embodying that word. Beautiful. “Th—“ A knock cut through his thoughts, he frowned as his eyes went to the door. “What?” Sam started talking, Dean gave a sigh, “yeah, yeah.”
Castiel sat up and untangled their grip, his hand felt so lonely now without Castiel’s fingers. “Castiel?” Dean spoke softly while sitting up, then he reached out to touch Castiel’s shoulder, his hand drifting from Castiel’s shoulder to his chin. “Don’t go back into yourself,” which was a funny thing to say – Dean thought – because he was always doing it himself. “I…”
He fumbled for words, which didn’t happen very often, “I have to go.” He shifted a bit, lifting Castiel’s chin. “Will you be here when I come back?” His voice was soft, he was afraid of the answer.
CASTIEL-- Of course Castiel thought a lot. For him, even after so many years on Earth, and even some time as a one, humans were a puzzle he was endlessly trying to find all the pieces to. Most especially when that human was a hunter named Dean Winchester.
It wasn't so much that he tried to close Dean out, not really. It was mostly that he simply didn't know how to even begin to explain his struggles. That...and, well, Dean had never really quite come out and asked him. He'd learned long ago that, often, his best way to be able to remain around the hunter was to make himself useful...and unobtrusive.
Besides, talking about feelings – and confusion was still very much a feeling, as much as a state of mind – was certainly on the list of things not done with Dean. No chick flick moments.
There was a little thrill that ran through him, inexplicable even to him, when Dean said his name. He'd heard it fall from the hunter's lips more since he'd come back to the bunker than in the past couple of years – those he'd not been in his exile – previous.
That thrill of pleasure was quickly overshadowed by Dean's simple, light touches. First, to the angel's shoulder, and then to his chin. He found it very pleasurable, in a simple, easy way. Though, his thoughts were still in disarray, and he was still unable to meet Dean's gaze, staring instead down at his hands folded in his lap.
“Don’t go back into yourself.” It seemed such a strange thing to say, as Castiel never quite thought of his pensive silences like that. But, if it bothered Dean, he would make more of an effort to share his thoughts – or, at least try. Even if it broke the chick flick moments rule.
Perhaps...well, perhaps the hunter was making an exception to it for Cas.
The gentle pressure on his chin was enough to finally cause him to look back up to the hunter, meeting Dean's eyes. Castiel studied him for a moment, seeking out the answer Dean wanted, then his lips twitched into a faint, hesitant smile. “Of course, Dean,” he said. The answer, or rather the words that made up the answer, were simple, but the intent and feeling he put into them as he spoke were as intense and complex as his very being.
DEAN-- Dean’s lips twisted in worry at the length of time it was taking for Castiel to answer him, had he been just delusional and thinking that all this between them was just a quick thing – over before it even began? Then there they were – those ocean blue eyes. “Good,” he spoke softly, then quickly dipped his head in for a kiss on Castiel’s jaw. “I gotta go,” he repeated himself, “Sam’ll start honking.” He grinned as he scooted back in the bed, studying Cas for a moment before pushing the blankets aside.
“You can do what you want around here,” he flapped his hand around the room, “it’s your room too.” He said that without even really thinking about what those words implied. “I’ll see you soon,” he found his shoes and scooted his feet into them. “There’s some pie in the fridge, so help yourself,” he walked back over to Castiel after grabbing his to-go bag that he hadn’t even unpacked from last night, “I…” He trailed off, unsure what he was supposed to say.
So he did what he thought best, he leaned in and gave him another kiss on the jaw before taking a step back. “I’ll be back,” he said in his best Arnold voice before letting himself out of the room. As he walked to the garage, it felt like he was floating.
Especially when he realized he actually kissed Cas.
Sure, it was on the cheek, but that counted, dammit.
And the horns started. “Awright Sam, Awright!”
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