Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadpaved) wrote2025-10-27 08:22 am
theroadpaved) wrote2025-10-27 08:22 amOpen PSL
Play with me! Write a starter or request a starter (and let me know in the comment if you'd like something genre-specific!)
theroadpaved) wrote2025-10-27 08:22 am
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He wonders if Cas thinks he owes him all that crap, somehow. An apology by another name or penance or... making things up to him or something. There's not really a way to say "you don't owe me a damn thing for anything" that doesn't risk jumping right back into the conversation Dean just played dead to get out of.
But he doesn't owe him. He never will. And Dean doesn't... he doesn't need it. Obviously. He'll turn over how to shut that down another time. For now, it's enough to keep trekking through the quiet, to keep that physical reassurance that they got out of this dumbass job alive.
Dean is less of a high-alert cornered animal the longer they go without saying anything else about it. (As much as either of them is ever not a high-alert cornered animal.) He won't admit that it's a shame to lose the extra points of contact for the sake of a phone call either, while he's at it.
For Sam's peace of mind? He'd trade off a hell of a lot more than that. Especially with the sheer volume of missed calls and messages that start coming through once he finally gets his goddamn bars. ]
Time to watch the master at work, buddy. [ Yes, he winks at Cas when he says that. Of course he winks.
By watching the master at work, he means "watch me reassure the hell out of my brother like a cool, confident badass."
And by that, the narrative means "watch him get his ass handed to him over the phone by his extremely worried brother while he valiantly tries to be like look, dude, we're fine, it's fine, we're on the freakin' trail heading for the car right now so sit back down, we'll get home for a patch job-- you can be fine and still need a patch job, Sammy, c'mon and so forth.
He's dying on this hill for no reason. He's cold and he's tired and everything hurts and he likes arguing with his beloved baby bro as a love language. He is blatantly ignoring any and all oh yeah???? Then give the phone to Cas and I'll ask him. I mean, he'll just tell me the same thing, right? sentiments.
Anyway, Dean's a huge loser, happy to help.
But. He won't spill the "Cas said he's been losing time and he freaked out about something earlier" beans right now, either. That's an in-person conversation. ]
Think I'm gonna stop for coffee on our way back, Cas, what do you say?
[ Schrodinger's joke. ]
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Even without skimming Dean's surface thoughts, Castiel knows he's probably tangling himself up in the complex series of increasingly knotted ropes that make up the hoops he jumps through in order to earn affection. Maybe wondering if Cas is only saying those things in lieu of apology, maybe bracing himself for bad news. A lot's happened tonight. It would be easy to make those connections, even for someone not as determined as Dean is to slip the leash of high esteem.
Dean doesn't tell Sam about Castiel's blackouts. That's...not unexpected, but appreciated. Likely Dean doesn't want Sam to run himself ragged trying to figure out what could be wrong. Sam doesn't sound even close to recovered, though he's got more than enough energy to expend it snipping with his brother in their weird half-cutting, half-soothing ritual of showing affection without wielding it like a blunt instrument (like Castiel does). The call is long and, Castiel suspects, even more to ease Dean's nerves than it is Sam's. The sun is almost risen by the time they finally end the call, sky warming to an even blue between the trees still stretched above them. A trail marker indicates less than a mile to guest parking.]
...I'd like a coffee, [Castiel sighs easily. They more likely could use rest, Dean in particular sleep and food, but something warm and uncomplicated like a cup of black coffee sounds...nice.]
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As long as Sam doesn't have to worry... quite so much about them, then Dean can worry a little less. Keep him there. If not necessarily back in bed, then at least like. Sitting down or something. ]
Good. [ He cracks his neck. Goes to stretch. INSTANTLY regrets it and aborts that mission. ] Whew! Make that drive-thru coffee. Yeah. We can go out for a real cup later.
[ A vague and nebulous later. Not necessarily today or tomorrow or anything, because Cas probably needs to rest up as much as any of them.
He sets up a phone alarm for a Sammy Soup Run™️ later this afternoon while he's thinking about it, though. Maybe he'll check on the coffee not-a-date status around then. ]
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(of God)to give Dean a body that aches too much for him to even care for it in the way it needs. Especially after tonight. Especially now, when he's being so unerringly kind, in his rough Dean Winchester way.So Cas steps closer (sways a little into him before correcting), sets one hand on Dean's good shoulder and digs his first knuckle into the knot he can see in Dean's shoulderblade and holds him still.] Try it again.
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?????????????????
Signed, Dean's fight flight or freeze response. Literally stops and stands very still on the path staring at Cas like a weirdo about it for a couple seconds while his brain tries to process. Shoulder touch normal. The follow-up? Less normal. What's the normal thing normal people with normal feelings about the person touching them does right now?
St-
Stretches the arm again???
Damn. That already works better, actually. ]
Thanks.
[ Wow..... maybe this IS what it's like to have a loyal weirdo knight... ]
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But he can make up for that. He can get Dean to trust him again. He just has to be more careful, more helpful. Humans do this for each other all the time, don't they? There's massage parlors all over the place, it's normal.] I can massage you when we get back to the motel. If your muscles are more relaxed, you'll recover more easily. [So proud of self. He found a solution.]
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It's just cruel and unusual at this point. Stupid goddamn well-meaning, entendre-missing, "if anyone else said that to me I would a thousand percent be getting laid" angels of the Lord and their stupid... stupid soft way of saying his name and stupid gentle hands.
Who's that dude constantly trying to push the boulder up a hill but cursed to always fail? Oh yeah. It's Dean Winchester. He keeps tripping over his own dumbass fondness and sliding right back even though he knows better. ]
I don't think that's gonna happen.
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I'm not worried. [ It's the first thing he can actually think to say, because he's kind of offended that Cas thinks he is worried about that.
Dean's saving his worries for other different hypotheticals and realities. Like staying still instead of accidentally trying to bite Cas on the hand or something. It's nice, but-- well, all the buts that could be on Dean's personal issues laundry list. That's too long to put in here. Nice but a lot. Nice but confusing. The check engine light in his brain keeps flashing. ]
Is that what this is about? You're worried that I'm worried? 'cause you shouldn't be.
[ Yeah yeah Cas almost broke his wrists and threw him in a pond and reminded him how he's an unknowable cosmic horror in a sturdy little package that could melt his brain and he's been having really worrying blackouts. But that's like whatever, man. If Dean let stuff like that ruin a relationship, he would've been a solo act on the road for a long time by now.
He guesses that line of thought makes more sense, thinking about it. It's probably exactly why Cas keeps trying to lure a wild raccoon out of the alleyway with an open palm full of cheetos. Metaphorically.
Maybe he'll just. Yeah. He's gonna stomp a bunch of longing and emotional stuff down the drain real quick and make himself take a little step back. Get some thinking room. ]
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But Castiel...tilts his head. Ever so slightly.
For all his self-proclaimed simplicity, Dean Winchester is an incredibly complex man. Layers upon layers of interlocking motivations, instincts and behaviors sewn into each other and built upon misconceptions that he's already aware of, but with no intention to or knowledge of how to rearrange. Dean Winchester thinks peace and kindness and love are human rights...except not for him. Any gentle thing he allows himself must be masked in rituals and customs unfathomable to even himself, sometimes.]
...my mistake, [Castiel murmurs, eyes locked onto Dean's face, scrutinizing him for any clue, for any hesitation. Not just by assuming Dean was worried. He can't offer anything to Dean like that, so straightforward, so honestly. If he truly wants to give something to Dean, he must do it in a way Dean will be able to accept.
He thinks of their hands, his fingers folded over the edge of Dean's, the squeeze, his thumb, so soft. So hesitant.
His wing twinges and this time he doesn't hide the flinch. He allows himself to sway slightly, reaching out for a steadying hand.]
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And sure, Cas keeps staring at him, but Cas Does That sometimes. He's a real Care Bear, if Care Bears had a history of trying to become God. ]
It's fine. You and me, we're good. I mean it. [ Just to make sure it's extra clear, while Dean stands here trying to brush off how harrowed he feels. They're good. They're fine. They're gonna work on figuring out what's up with his memory gap thing, they're gonna get their coffees, they're gonna do it all over again tomorrow.
Cas doesn't need to crawl his way back to the Impala on broken glass or whatever to earn that. He's here. He's. Even if it's shitty and complicated and a lot of the moving pieces leading up to today still hurt like hell, as long as he comes back at all, Dean's--
Whatever.
He's whatever. He's pathetic, mostly, he guesses.
All of which instantly goes out the window the second Cas flinches and starts swaying again. Dean could've flipped a switch: just like that he's right back in the space he stepped out of, just like that he's reaching for Cas to give him the hand he's asking for, hesitance wiped off the board by worry. He has it to give: why wouldn't he give it? ]
I got you, c'mon. If we don't make it back in the next couple hours, Sammy's gonna kill us himself.
[ Now that everyone has their issues sorted and settled and solved for forever they can focus on the important stuff like that, obviously. ]
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They resume the walk down to where Baby waits for them. Castiel occupies Dean's with questions; did Sam sound better? Had Sam already called anyone? Should they get something for Sam when they get their coffee? He knows the answers already having listened in on the conversation, but Dean needs to unwind and talking about Sam in a safe context is a good way to do that. The distraction allows Castiel to find a first aid kit and goad Dean into letting him at least flush his shoulder wound. Digging out the bullet will have to come once they're back to the motel but for now, at least, that'll do.
The drive is quiet and punctuated with Dean's hiss when the jostling of the car agitates his wound. Drive-through coffee turns out to be McDonald's halfway back to the motel, and Castiel holds both his and Dean's cups as he drives, handing it carefully back at red lights as they idle. Morning traffic swells the streets around them; Castiel watches as humans go about their lives, none the wiser to what they'd missed during the night. Traveling in a car has always felt so claustrophobic, but there's something almost meditative doing it now, Dean making idle observations and occasionally holding out a hand for his coffee. Maybe...he could get used to this.]
...after my wing has healed, [Cas starts, hesitatingly- but, no. The reward will be that look on Dean's face, same as before; that cracked open, painfully soft look.] It'll take time. But afterwards, I'd like to...stick around for a while.
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As much as he can look without crashing the car, anyway. ]
Yeah? [ Get it together. Don't sound too much like you want it, don't sound like you think he's not doing important shit on his own time when he's not around, because of course you know when he's gone it's because he has more important shit to be dealing with.
Sound like you know how to be cool about this.
If Dean fails at that last one in particular, he's hoping it'll fly under Cas's radar. ]
You-- [ NORMAL. CASUAL. ] Yeah. Yeah, man. Of course you can.
[ Stick around. For a while. On purpose. And Sam only gets a vote if Sam is gonna vote yes, and why would he not vote yes? Win-win. Now he doesn't even care that he got shot tonight tbh.
Dean girl get UP (impossible challenge, worth the suffering of being down bad). ]
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Castiel doesn't look away, can't, even as Dean turns back to face the road. Just that glimpse, just that half-strangled image on Dean's face had been- it had been-
Oh no, he wants to reach. Castiel clenches his hands in his lap. Be satisfied. It's more than enough.] You don't have to take me with you when you go talking to people, during hunts. I...understand my limitations. [You need something heavy picked up? You need somebody's brain investigated? He's there. You need to tell someone their wife died? He is not there, he is anywhere but there. Because if he's there, then Dean and Sam are going to go 'Cas what the hell are you doing.']
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Not exactly a bad thing to be limited at bein' a conman, right? [ Dean and Sam got it drilled in early and often. They lie and manipulate more on one job than most people do in a year. ] I mean, the rest of your people skills...
[ ........ huffs (affectionate). ]
Yeah. [ no wait ] Great to have you, though. Any time. Me 'n Sam, we, uh. We like...
[ Gestures???? Clears throat, proceeds to shut up.
He can't just say that shit. He needs to spend a year going on a murder spree about it. That's the only way. ]
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He holds his hand out for his coffee, so he has it to drink and not acknowledge anything he is about to say. (Obviously.) ]
Company's not bad, either.
[ Dean be like let me rizz u up: pleasepleasepleaseplease anyway that never happened. ]
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Kneejerk reaction is to reply that the Winchesters have got the company of each other, but he's trying this 'read between the lines' thing instead of, you know. Invasively skimming Dean's surface thoughts. Like he used to do when they first met.
This way is soooo much harder.]
...my company, [Cas clarifies, partly in question. It is, even now, a shakey concept. A big part of that is his own fault, he knows. Lots of fucking up in the past. Lying.
Hurting Sam.
Sam seems to have forgiven him for it ages ago, but Sam really shouldn't have. He hadn't known Castiel's thought process when he'd done it.]
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This can't be natural. It's freakin... harrowing. It's like skinning himself without even getting some pain as a distraction. ]
Yeah yours, dumbass, who else am I gonna be talking about?
[ He is so normal. He is VERY normal. ]
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He demonstrates this by being very quiet for at least three stoplights, sipping calmly at his coffee and staring out into space contemplatively. Cursed or not. Dean would rather have him. It had been touching then, too, even though Cas had known it was only because Dean had needed help. That Dean was willing to trust him even that much after what he'd done, it had meant...more than it should have, maybe.
The Impala is swinging into the motel by the time Castiel finally gets enough thoughts in order to speak.]
You'll have to forgive me for taking so long to accept it, [he murmurs into the dusty dawn light as it spills weakly across the dashboard. Every physical fiber, every metaphysical warble of him feels exhausted and warm, as if he could be capable of the kind of sleep that promises no dreams. The man scant inches to his left smells like blood and sweat and gunpowder and the hearth of a loving home.]
It's an unfamiliar concept. [To be wanted.]
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Well. It's still here. [ There. Here. Whichever. What wouldn't Dean carve his way through to prove it at this point? He's not so sure there's a limit to what he'd do. For Sam, for Cas.
He barely remembers what it was like to be scared of himself for that. The edges of that wore down a long time ago.
Dean chugs what's left of his coffee once they're parked. Gives his Baby a fond pat on the dash, makes himself dredge up some more energy. He thinks he's past second wind and into fifth wind by now, but that's the cost of doing business. Can't walk in and pass out or Sam'll have a conniption about it.
God knows Cas can't do all the explaining without making it sound worse than it was, either. Dean doesn't need all that, he just got Cas hanging around more (after his wing heals up) on the menu. ]
Alright, home stretch. And we're not [ NOT. ] lettin' Sam get all worked up about this.
[ He is already worked up, Dean, that's what happens. Hope that helps.
Future problem. They're gonna stumble their way in there like consummate professionals. ]
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So Sam is not only awake, he's sitting at the little plastic table waiting for them to walk in. And he does, unfortunately, get worked up; especially when he finds out that Dean's still got a bullet in his shoulder. He insists on presiding over Cas digging it out, only holding back from being the one to remove it due to the fact that he's still coughing and hacking and thinks better of spraying all of that directly into his brother's open wound.
The excitement of making sure Dean's cleaned up properly wears him down and he crawls into bed shortly after, mumbling about brothers worrying him, ordering Dean to take the antibiotics in the kit, thanking Cas for looking after Dean and ignoring when Cas tries to tell him that Dean took care of him, and he's out within minutes of getting beneath the covers, snoring heavily, dead to the world.
Dean disappears into the bathroom to clean up, and Castiel stands. Wobbles, but cuts open a hand to begin warding the room with angel proofing.]
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Maybe that's his imaginary pond salmonella talking.
He does his best Good Patient for Sam's sake, which means sitting very still and also ignoring Cas and his "Dean took care of me" stuff in favor of being offended Sam asked Cas to look after him in the first place. Like???? He's right here you lil bitch?
All the better to get Sam actually sleeping so that Dean can run a little cleanup, yeah. Which he even does without complaint. Because of what a good big brother he is!!! (He's gonna make fun of him for snoring tomorrow. Later.... today... whatever.)
Stop one stepping back out of the bathroom is a quick check-in to feel Sammy's forehead since he wouldn't LET Dean do it before for some dumb reason. Could be better, could be worse. They've got enough painkillers and fever reducers to give an army, though, so he'll get Sam back on that once they're back up. Guy probably forgot because of all this.
Stop two: obviously Cas's personal space. As a treat. ]
Seriously. Leave you alone for two minutes and you're bleedin' again?
[ It's a joke (its a flirt be so fr), he swears. We love quiet conversations in cheap motels around here. ]
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Cas likewise doesn't pay much mind when Dean makes his rounds, concentrating on painting the wards. One day Dean will understand that him cutting open his arm or hand for blood is like someone else spitting on the ground. AKA: not a big deal.]
I'm locking myself into his room, [he rumbles as quietly as possible.] Once I've finished, I won't be able to leave until someone else opens the door.
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It's a straightforward enough answer for Dean to take up Sam's abandoned post in the crappy chair, at least. You know, watch Cas do his blood ritual, no big deal. That's basically relaxing in this household. ]
Should I ask why? [ His abandonment issues love "Cas won't be able to leave until someone lets him" like, conceptually and unrealistically. The logical mind is like girl shut up with that. Angel-safety purposes, probably. ] And how's the wing holdin' up?
[ The one Dean can't do anything to help and must therefore worry about a little extra anyway. ]
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just do what i do and never proofread
ur so right
cw: suicide mention
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i should make a sam journal at this rate
doomed by the narrative (to be in the narrative)
omg....a dani essay........im so blessed
the stars aligned...
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cw: suicide mention
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