foolintherain | DEERINGTON INBOX

[ Dean swallows, setting his jaw, muscle twitching in his cheek as he regards Cas. He's quiet for probably far longer than Cas is comfortable with as he thinks, trying to parse out an answer that isn't knee jerk and douchebaggy. It's a good question, why Cas. Why now, in the midst of chaos, when the world is crumbling around them yet again? Why not before, when they were in a similar situation? What changed?

Everything, he guesses. Everything and nothing. They are still the same people, no matter the time he's been here, though he likes to think he's softened a fraction, after everything. Hard to say, though, when he's faced with the most complicated person from his past, a man that has stood by him always, by every bad decision, every bad call, no matter what. Cas has always invoked complicated feelings that Dean didn't know how to deal with, and seeing him again amplified everything he thought he'd buried over the last two months. He'd come to terms with the fact that he'd probably never see his angel again, and right as he'd put it to bed, Cas' face appeared on the network, and everything Dean buried came bubbling right back up to the surface.

He wets his lips and looks at Cas, at the being whose arms he found such salvation in, the man who's kisses tasted like moonshine and the sweetest honey. Thinking back on it makes him twitch in his jeans, because Cas splayed out and spread wide on his lap like that had been one of the most gorgeous things he'd ever seen, and Dean's seen a lot in his life. He remembers what Cas felt like, his heat, how it felt to bury himself in his angel, how it swept him away, how Cas' heat and skin and tears are burned into his retinas, the memory at the forefront of his every waking moment.

Dean could be a dick, here. Easily. He could revert to the man he was when he arrived here, dismissive and cruel, condescending and unnecessarily mean. He could lean on the idea that Cas had used him, that they'd used each other, that it was a one time thing and there was nothing behind it.

It'd be a lie, a cruel lie that they would both instantly recognize for what it was.

He looks down, picking at a weed by his knee, rubbing the grass between blunt fingers. ]

You know why.

Edited 2021-05-30 21:47 (UTC)

[ In a way, this moment feels the same as the one that night when Cas first leaned his head on Dean's lap and wasn't shoved away or berated for it, but welcomed. They've spent so long respecting each other's space while being forced into close quarters that even the idea of pushing for more is terrifyingly strange, a new world, literally. Castiel never would have pushed Dean back home, because there was too much there to risk losing. And it's likely Dean would have pushed back then, rather than accept him as he has here, and it's just... It's a very strange feeling, like coming in from the cold, and the sudden warm has your fingers burning with heat, aching, even as they thaw from frozen.

Dean's silence aches, and his answer is painful, and the "why" that Dean says he's supposed to know splits like a fork in his mind, between this dreamworld being an unreality, or that it's changed Dean in ways that scare Cas as much as it excites him. He looks down at his hands again, at a tomato seedling that's only just sprouted, and already the lowest leaves are yellowing. Gently, he pinches them off. ]

In that case, I wonder... Do you know why you?

[ If he's going to risk nurturing the little seedling of an idea that he might have some kind of significance to Dean, then it's important that Dean knows he's not insignificant to Cas. Maybe it would be easier for Dean, or for both of them, and pointing it out might uproot things before they've started, but he can't let Dean believe that he's anything less than the center of Cas's universe, regardless of what universe they've happened to have found themselves in. ]

Edited 2021-05-30 22:24 (UTC)

[ He doesn't look up, because he really...really doesn't want the confirmation he's sure to receive. He feels a little sick to his stomach, wracked with internalized and misdirected guilt; did he take advantage? Did Cas? Does he feel guilty for fucking a man despite his daddy being dead and gone? He swallows again, digs his nails into his jeans. ]

You needed release. I was familiar.

[ Because even still, Dean has zero sense of self worth. His value was limited to his usefulness and knowledge of both Sam and Lucifer back home, and here, he has made it his personal responsibility to take care of the people currently sharing his home, because he needs to be needed, anything else and he's worthless. ]

[ Familiar, jesus christ. Cas leans back on his heels, chin tilted back, looking directly at Dean, who is, of course, looking anywhere else. ]

Dean.

[ There's a pause Cas takes after he says Dean's name, in which he changes the next words he's about to say from "You stupid son of a bitch" to something a little less inflammatory, considering he doesn't actually want to piss Dean off over what's already a tenuous, frustratingly complicated mess. He links his dirty hands and watches Dean's profile, feeling intimately close and frustratingly distant from him all at once. ]

When I started sleeping around awhile ago, it was because of you. ...Not because I was following your advice about the best way to deal with the neglect of an absent father, but because I... wanted you.

[ He knows that tone of voice. He's heard it before from Cas, when Dean's done or said something stupid, but he's not quite aware of what just yet. He looks up, finally, a little guilty and sheepish, but decidedly wary, because he's really not sure what's coming.

What Cas says isn't really what Dean was expecting. ]

How...the hell does that correlate?

[ And are you sure you want him, Now Him? Because you sure seem to enjoy Past Him a whole lot more. ]

[ Not a bad question, and Cas huffs a laugh, because fuck, he was stupid. Thinking if he just... acted like Dean, he would get Dean, that things would be easy for him to have whoever he wanted, the way Dean does... When he didn't even take into account that the way Dean acts is and has always been that, just an act, and that everything he does to cope is just to cope, not make things better. Cas thought it would make them closer, and all it did was tear them apart. He fucked up in every way a person can, and all he can do now is laugh about it. ]

I don't know anymore. Maybe it doesn't. It was a long time ago.

[ The laughter is quick to fade to a sad smile as he looks at Dean, though, because yeah. He's changed. He's nothing like the person he was, except that he does still want Dean, exactly the way he is. ]

I'm sorry I fell apart, the other night. It had just been so long, and I... still want you. Just you. That's "why you," so you know.

[ No drug Cas has ever tried has been able to take away how he feels about Dean. It aches, and his heart races and throbs, his throat and chest both aching like he can't breathe as he admits it. ]

[ Dean is notorious for unhealthy coping mechanisms and questionable behavioral patterns. He's put on an act for so long, it's hard to even know who he is anymore, though slowly but surely, he's starting to figure that out, here.

Dean hadn't really banked on Cas factoring into the equation, but damned if he isn't here, solid and real, and Dean's eyes are fixed on him now, listening, really listening to what's being said instead of passing it off and deliberately misinterpreting.

The words make his hands shake, and he fervently wishes he'd brought the bottle outside with him because now his nerves are rattled and he's trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. He knows what he feels, and this is the end, and Cas was right when he said this might be our last night to make amends. Any day now, it could be the end, the dream or whatever could crumble and they could be dead. He's missed out on one last chance already. He doesn't want to miss out on another. ]

Cas..

[ He exhales, closes his eyes and takes a moment, heart frantically fluttering in his chest. ]

Want me how? [ He finally manages, voice rough, a little demanding, one hand curled into a fist so tight his knuckles are white, the other planting on the dirt, to lean him a little in Cas' direction, on tenterhooks, desperate for validation, for the things he needs to hear. ]

Edited (word choices) 2021-05-30 23:36 (UTC)

[ The end of the world came and went. Cas was expecting emptiness to come next, maybe Hell. This is different from that. It's another ending, and who's to say there won't be another one after this?

But for Castiel, it doesn't matter. He doesn't have a little brother to protect or vengeance to seek. He welcomes the end. There's only one thing tethering him to reality in the face of oblivion, and that one thing is leaning on closer to him, beautifully vulnerable, and asking "how" as if the answer isn't obvious and understood, that anyone who doesn't want Dean Winchester, incredible, radiant thing that he is, in every way possible, humanly or otherwise, is a fool. And also, coincidentally, so is the man who does.

As Cas brings a hand to Dean's cheek with the confidence that it won't be brushed away, and he leans in, eyes on Dean's lips, something in him is screaming say it, and everything else in him is screaming, don't fuck up. He's not going to be the one who had a connection with Dean, only to watch him sleep around the next day. He's not as strong as Risa. He would rot straight into the ground, add to the compost for Dean's garden. ]

Like... a fool in the rain.

[ Cas leans in and kisses Dean's mouth gently, inhaling the smell of green things and wet earth. His eyes fall closed, and his heart still pounds away in his ears double time, like rain falling. Like Zeppelin. "And the warmth of your smile starts a burning, and the thrill of your touch give me fright, and I'm shaking so much, really yearning. Why don't you show up and make it alright?" ]

[ Dean is trembling under Cas' touch, the tremors shivering through his body as Cas cups his face. He's missed this, missed how openly affectionate Cas can be, the lazy smile, the fluidity of his movements. Even if they were never really directed at him back home, he's missed it and now that Cas is here...Dean needs him.

Cas answers and Dean nearly weeps, because Cas knows him, knows his love of Zepplin, and it's being used against him and Dean doesn't give a single fucking shit. ]

...Cas.

[ Dean chokes Cas' name out against the angels lips, covering the hand on his face, fingers stroking over Cas' skin, emotion threatening to burst out of his chest like a damn face hugger. Dean lasts about a second before he's reaching for Cas' waist, dragging him into his lap, dirt be damned.

And if you promised you'd love so completely
And you said you would always be true
You swore that you never would leave me baby
Whatever happened to you?

Dean kisses him fiercely, hungrily, teasing his lips open, gripping him tight, flush against Dean's chest. ]

[ There's no separation between dream and reality when Cas is with Dean, and really, he's alright with that. It's a better ending that he ever would've planned for himself, the ultimate escape into Dean's arms, and Cas embraces it (and Dean) willingly. He links their fingers as Dean's hand covers his, holds Dean's cheeks in both hands as he's kissed back deeply, so, so shiveringly warmly, and he climbs like mercury into Dean's laps as soon as that arm around his waist is tugging him. This is Heaven. Fuck the real place. And if it's Hell fucking with him, they've really upped their game since the last time Cas visited, six years ago, and held Dean's soul in his hands for the first and crushingly last time.

He breathes in his kisses, hums reassuringly against Dean's mouth, and considering Cas can barely keep himself still like this, knees in the dirt, rocking into Dean's lap and sucking on his tongue, it's probably better that they stop and, for Dean's sake, at least, find privacy somewhere. If only Cas wanted to stop. ]

How about—

[ He tries to say, to pull away from Dean when all he does instead is slide his hands down to Dean's neck and pull him in closer, slowing down kisses that remain soul-searchingly, heatedly deep between the words he mumbles against Dean's mouth. ]

Why don't you go... bang on your car... while I finish up in the garden, here... and then come out to help?

[ Cas inhales Dean's kisses, and it's a crazy, mind-melting high he really, doesn't want to think through. It's a struggle. He keeps kissing Dean and pressing against him despite the words, in every rush to escalate the heat and the grind rather than the whole, separate and walk away idea. ]

[ They absolutely should stop. Dean isn't ready to be out out yet, and he damn sure doesn't want his kid brother (either of them) spying on him and making unneeded comments that'll ultimately make Dean pissy and shy away. He can be a fragile individual, and this is something so delicate he's afraid that it will shatter if prodded too much. ]

You're kidding me. [ He groans a little against Cas' lips; he has so much more to say to Cas, I need you, it's always been you, what happened to us, I'm sorry, I want you, I love you, but what comes out is strangled and half gasped, his fingers twisting into Cas' shirt as he keeps Cas pinned against him. ]

You can't use Zeppelin to seduce me then shoo me off. [ It's not even fair. ]

[ Isn't Dean lucky to have someone in his lap who knows his homophobic hang-ups so well? Yeah, lucky. That's the word for it, definitely, as Cas grins against Dean's mouth and kneels up, putting just enough space between them to slide a hand over Dean's dick and squeeze him through his jeans. ]

Mmm... Okay. If you'd rather carry me across the front lawn and throw me into the back seat while I scream, "Yes, Dean, fuck me, I'm yours," I'm game.

[ Sex is easy. Easy to get into, easy to excuse, easy to forgive. Things like I need you, I love you, I'm sorry are so much more damning. Cas isn't expecting Dean to say anything. Just being close to him like this, as often as Dean will let him, is enough. ]

[ Ngh, lucky. Yes. Precisely that. To be fair, 'getting lucky' is nearly all he can think about, Cas' hand between his legs makes his brain short circuit. One taste of that angel ass and Dean's all over him.

Who even is he. ]

Tempting. [ Scream to the world he belongs to Dean? Yes, please - sign him up for that, right now.

Still. Cas actually was speaking sense, they should break apart, put this on pause until people are either in bed or less likely to see them out of a window.

That's what common sense tells him, anyway. His cock in Cas' hand has different ideas, though, because Dean is drinking those kisses down like man stranded in the desert would gulp water, his arm around Cas' waist, pinning him in close. ]

You're probably right.

[ Okay, for Dean to actually consider it instead of being sufficiently freaked out isn't what Cas is expecting. It sends a little shiver of possessive jealousy through him, the idea that Dean might enjoy being so conspicuously spoken for, though Cas quashes the idea just as quickly. You can't really trust anything that comes out of someone's mouth while your hand is on their junk, so there's no reason to get his hopes up. It's not like he wants more from Dean, anyway. Companionship is enough, and sex is the whipped cream on the pie, so to speak. Straddling Dean's thighs, holding his cheek, and kissing his mouth filthily is already so much more than good enough. ]

Mm-hm.

[ Cas agrees about being right, and when Dean pulls him closer, Cas goes willingly again deeper into Dean's lap until they're pressed flush again. He has to take his hand off Dean's dick to do it, but that's for the best, really. They should stop. If they get caught right now, no matter what Dean says, Cas is sure it'll be the end. He doesn't want to lose this newfound intimacy, the one thing in his life sweeter than escaping it. He holds Dean's jaw as he kisses him again, and again, and again, and finally, achingly, he pulls away from Dean's kisses and the wrap of his arms. ]

Alright, you've distracted me from my, uh, exposed work long enough, Dean.

[ It feels a little like breathing in air that's gone below freezing, pulling away from Dean; it takes his breath away and stings his lungs. Cas smiles through the pain, setting his feet carefully between the rows of kale as he uses Dean's shoulders to stand, then looks at him adoringly as he offers his hands to help Dean up, as well. ]

Go bang your baby.

[ Dean is loathe to let go, but Cas is right, they're out here in the wide ass open, exposed not just to the nosy eyes of his brothers, but also to any monsters that may be lurking, waiting to attack once they're completely distracted. Dean's already got healing wounds from the last run in, one of the windows in the cabin still boarded up because he hasn't found glass to replace it. He doesn't really want another run in if he can help it. Despite little Sam's precise stitches, a needle still hurts. ]

Mm..fine. [ His arms drop from around Cas' body, letting him get up, though it feels like there's a hole where Cas was, the ache of his loss felt immediately as he takes Cas' hands and hauls himself up. ]

Come find me when you finish here.

[ Imagine getting mauled by monsters while you're fucking out in the yard. That's certainly one way to die. Alas, reason wins out, and though Cas is reluctant to let Dean leave, common sense of not, he eventually steps away, letting go of one of Dean's hands, kissing his knuckles, and then releasing the other, as well. ]

Will do, boss.

[ He drops to his knees and begins sifting through the dirt, plucking up the remaining weeds by the roots almost instantly, desperately needing the distraction from the fading of Dean's warmth on his skin.

***

It doesn't actually take all that long to finish up in the garden, but Cas draws it out, giving Dean enough time to establish his alibi and actually work on the car, if he feels like. Cas meanwhile rummages through the cabin until he finds some much needed supplies, bundling them all up in a first aid kit he carries under his arm when he approaches Dean some half hour later by the Impala, his hands washed clean but his knees still dirty with soil. His footsteps are clumsily loud, but he introduces himself before he gets close, anyway. He whistles low. The Impala may not be road ready, but she's a far cry from what she looked like back in Chitaqua. ]

Really been putting the work in, huh?

[ Throwing himself into working on the car is the only way he doesn't do exactly what Cas teased him with, hauling the angel bodily across the lawn while declaring that this ass is his, dammit, then ravaging him in the backseat of the impala for all to see.

Best wait til dark, at least. Darker, anyway, what with the mists and fog.

When Cas finds him, Dean's neck deep under the hood replacing a few nuts and bolts from parts salvaged from the scrapyard - he'll need to make a trip over again for some more parts, maybe he can grab Sam and take that ugly ass Lincoln and load up.

Dean's sleeves are pushed up, and his skin is smeared with grease. He appreciates the whistle, even though he heard Cas coming. Of all people, Cas knows Dean doesn't like being snuck up on in any capacity; he's grateful for the announcement of his presence.

He doesn't withdraw from where he's tightening something with a socket wrench, he just finishes what he's doing before he pauses, leaning against Baby a little while he wipes his face with a dirty towel. ]

Yeah, trying to get her road ready again. She's comin' along.

[ And once they finally do go to the summoning stones, she'll really be in good shape. ]

[ With the absence of things like showers or a plethora of running faucets during the apocalypse, it wasn't easy to keep clean. Luckily for Dean, he looks very good dirty. Once Cas is well within hearing range, he sets his hands on his hips, kit still under arm, and is content to watch Dean work, including smearing a bit more grease on his face in an attempt to wipe of the sweat. It's relentlessly attractive, but of course, Cas is sure Dean knows that. ]

Looking good.

[ Cas says, meaning the car, or Dean, or both, who can say. He doesn't clarify, but smiles with the implication that, whichever Dean decides, he's right about it. ]

About how much longer until you hit a breaking point, would you say?

[ Because Cas is patient enough to wait, but when he interrupts Dean, oh, it's going to be a thorough interruption. ]

[ He's, you know. Casually aware of the fact that he looks pretty good covered in sweat and grease. Good thing Cas doesn't mind his grime, or if he does, he's never said anything about it and doesn't now.

Dean glances up, flashes Cas a little wink as he stands upright, tossing the towel aside. ]

I'm probably done for the day. Need to hit the scrapyard soon, see about finding some more parts. [ He'll brave the mists for his baby. ]

[ Sometimes hygiene is important, and then sometimes you just want to see the man you love covered in grease and motor oil. Both takes are valid, Cas thinks. But then, let's be real, there isn't much Cas isn't okay with these days. When Dean winks, Cas smiles brighter, and when he says he's done, Cas helps himself to meandering over, closing the hood and hopping right up on it. ]

Well, let me know when you're heading out, and I'll watch your back. Don't want you winding up with any more bug bites.

[ Speaking of, he pulls his legs up to sit cross-legged on the hood and opens the first aid kit across his lap, then he holds out a hand towards Dean expectantly. ]

Let's see that arm.

[ Leave it to Dean to get not one, but two injuries at the same time, one of which Cas is regrettably responsible for. Keeping the stitches clean and the bandage on his hand fresh is is the least he can do. ]

[ There are very few people he'd let sit on Baby's hood, Cas is one of them. Dean watches Cas hop up, meandering closer, ready to lean into his space. ]

I will.

[ Between Cas and Sam, Dean finally, finally feels complete, like his family really is knitting itself back together again. His brothers are here, and while one is a spritely fourteen and the other a broody motherfucker, they're here and they're okay and they're alive. Healthy, even.

With Cas here, it feels like his little circle is complete.

It's a good feeling. ]

You don't have to worry about it. It's fine. [ Probably nearly healed, maybe.

He's rolling the sleeve up to his shoulder on his left arm anyway, because it's Cas, and the argument isn't worth it, and he likes the attention he's getting. ]

[ There aren't many situations when Cas feels the need to be stubborn and argue with Dean, but this would certainly be one of them, so it's a relief when Dean rolls up his sleeve instead of fighting it. Cas uses the time to open an antiseptic bottle and wet a clean cotton pad, an absolutely luxury compared to threadbare rags soaked in whiskey. ]

Sorry to deprive you of the scars you've been nurturing.

[ But no, actually, when Dean offers his arm and Cas takes it in his hands and wipes over the sutures, cleaning away the errant smudge of grease, they're healing nicely. Sam did a good job, but of course, Cas shouldn't be surprised. The brothers take care of each other. It's strange and painfully nostalgic to see. ]

I think that's the moment that I realized this place was real, in some form of the word: when you cut yourself, and I watched you bleed.

[ Cas muses to himself as he works, leaving the cleaned stitches to dry while he wets a new cloth and takes Dean's hand in both of his, spreading his palm open, cleaning away the rust and grease from a wound that's only rough and pink and not really in need of attention, already mostly healed. Cas cleans it thoroughly anyway, as if it were fresh. ]

In just about every other way, this place still feels like a dream.

[ For some people, this town full of monsters and mist and alternate versions of oneself would be a nightmare, but for them? It's the kindest dream Cas has had in a long time, far preferable to the waking world. Their reality feels more like a nightmare he's afraid he'll fall back into the next time he closes his eyes. ]

[ Sam was always better with needlework than Dean. Dean's efficient, he can get it done, but Sam's were always nicer and far less likely to scar. It's certainly healing well. ]

At first, it was a nightmare. [ For Dean, anyway. Cas is lucky (sort of) in that he missed most of the trauma Dean was exposed to almost immediately upon arriving, and Dean truly does have to count his lucky stars that his angel wasn't privy to any of that shit - the actual events, and the consequences.

Dean was not well for a while. His coping mechanisms are already unhealthy, and the risks he took while Sam was dead were considerable. There are a lot of new scars dotting his body now, some still pink and blistery. Healed, but new. ]

It's better now. [ Ariadne had been right, again (he'll never confess) - as awful as the city could be, it was better than home. ]

[ Whatever happened to Dean in Deerington that could possibly be considered as bad (or worse) than the world of zombies and hell they've arrived from, Cas isn't sure he wants to hear about. He frowns at Dean as he wipes the last traces of grease from his palm, waiting for an explanation, but of course, one doesn't come. Nothing good comes from reopening old wounds, and so Cas lets it lie, putting the dirtied supplies back into the kit in his lap and then setting the whole thing aside next to him, and pulling Dean's hand back into his again. He lays his thumbs with firm, gentle pressure along the scar in Dean's hand, watching his face to gauge from his expression if it's fully healed or if there's something nasty simmering beneath the surface, because he doesn't trust Dean at all to tell him. ]

You're alive. So yeah, I'd call that better.

[ Also Lucifer is MIA, Sam is adorably young, and Croatoan isn't running rampant, destroying the world, but Cas is shameless about where his priorities lie these days. ]

[ Dean won't elaborate, not unless Cas pries it out of him. Even then, at most, Cas would get a watered down version to spare the trauma Dean had experienced. Dean isn't great at 'sharing' and emoting, especially not anymore.

He tips his head, watching Cas, letting him press on the scar. It aches a tad, in the way newly healed wounds do, but it isn't vicious or sharp like the raw wounds in his heart that will not mend. ]

So are you.

[ They're both alive, and there's something to be said for that, and it's all he can think about as he curls his fingers over Cas', covering them with his free hand. ]

cw; some spicy references

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cw: oh it's spicy now also

tHESE TWO

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