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
no subject
Don't overthink it. Don't think about the gnawing thing that would settle inside him if he was allowed to touch Cas like that all the time, for no reason other than-- other than the things that he's not allowed to think about. Dean's good at not overthinking this.
But he hesitates at the offer, while he's much more pointedly setting a soup container on Sam's nightstand, tapping his fingers on the plywood a few times to be extra annoying about pointing out that it's there.
(Sam swats his hand for it, but he's either feeling nice enough not to swat too hard or being sick has just sapped him of the strength needed.) ]
Yeah, not sure where I land on that one. But thanks. I'll let you know.
[ Not having to experience a lot of the flying versus not being awake if something happens versus well of course he could trust Cas to wake him up if something happens versus but what if the thing that happens is Cas gets all zoned out again and then he can't wake Dean up.
Much to debate, even if it would probably be easier on literally everyone else in the plane for Dean to be conked out. And easier on everyone after they landed because it would be the most sleep he's gotten at one time since he was like ten.
He's honestly grateful to simply have the option either way. ]
no subject
Plans and execution proceed apace. Cas manages not to fall into despair by Dean rejecting his help and by knowing he's inconveniencing the brothers by being unwell. Sam drinks his soup and sleeps most of the drive to Dallas. Cas has a couple of mild zoning sessions, but nothing as severe as before and he doesn't disappear on either of them, though Sam complained afterwards that he had felt a little like someone tugged on a thread tied to his ribs.
They arrive at the airport and Cas does a little mojo show when some TSA agents squint a little too long at Sam as they go through security, but they make it through and onto the plane, Dean in a seat between Sam (aisle) and Cas (window).
The plane begins to taxi but before it even accelerates for takeoff, Cas reaches over and lets his hand rest on Dean's wrist, murmuring.] Do not be afraid. My wing is healed enough to bring us safely to land, if need be.
no subject
And he is vibrating like a beloved pet chihuahua between Cas and Sam in a manly, brave fashion. Naturally. Humming all the vague snatches of Metallica in the world cannot save him, which he thinks is so fucking stupid when he's like. Literally died and gone to Hell and saved the world and seen its many, many horrors over and over again.
But a little extremely long plane ride is where he hits his limit? In front of his brother and his-- Cas, no less? Again??? ]
Mmhmm, [ is about the most he can muster as a first response. It's a delayed comprehension moment, so Dean mostly absorbs the touch and the tone of voice first.
Do not be afraid. Embarrassing. Humiliating. He should've asked Sam to concuss him before they got to the gate. pregamed with some overpriced airport booze.
He's a grown man, for chrissake. ] Yep. Great. Nothin' to, nothin' to... yeah. S'all good.
[ Would love to say "nothing to worry about," but alas, cannot make himself do that while there's a plane in motion.
Sam is at one side, pressing shoulder-to-shoulder. He's leaning closer than he needs to on purpose, just to do that. Dean knows. And Cas is here, and his hand is warm, and that's. Good. Humiliation factor aside.
But hopefully Cas doesn't want that hand back very soon, because Dean's just gonna. Gonna grab onto that THE moment this bad boy starts gearing up for takeoff for real. His arm now, commandeering that shit for the greater good (hating all airplanes forever and ever).
Maybe Dean can take these little selfish liberties as a treat. Just a little 🤏. ]
no subject
...the headphones give him an idea.
Castiel closes his eyes and leans back in his seat, allowing his true self to seep out in waves, curling carefully around essential signals and systems, seeking out-
-one Star KZPS 92.5 FM, classic rock, all day every day. Coming up next, "Smoke on the W-"
That'll do.
Cas plucks up his own plastic wrapped single-use earbuds, unsure as to why Sam had requested them for all three of their party but now glad he had, and finds the earpieces. He leans over and tries to get Dean's attention to put them into his ears but, of course, Dean is barely hanging on as the engines roar just outside the fuselage.
No problem. Cas will just put in the one he can reach for Dean, ignore Sam's questioning gaze, and then grip the metal jack and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes once again to concentrate on filtering the electrical pulses pulled in by his grace and translating them back into their intended sound.
It's actually kind of a fun exercise; more complex than anticipated, but with a little room to play around with it. Maybe he can try to lay in the memorized growl of the Impala's engine in the background, so it's almost like they're in the car.]