foolintherain: (Default)
ℭ𝔞𝔰ƚ𝔦𝔢𝔩 ([personal profile] foolintherain) wrote2021-06-20 01:58 pm

join me in the slave au dumpster

[ They were told, all of them, that Dean Winchester could be found at an auto salvage shop in South Dakota, but he isn't there. A whole network of people are scouring the United States for one man, but it's Castiel who finds him. Dean's car, a 1967 Chevy Impala is parked in front of a gas station in Pontiac, Illinois, and Castiel parks his Lincoln Continental behind it.

This is the only gas station for miles. It's a shack on the main highway, surrounded by thick woods. It's ideal, Castiel thinks. This meeting was planned. He was meant to find Dean here. This is God's plan for him, to be the one to find Dean Winchester, here in this remote place.

He pushes open the glass door, and the bell above it jingles. Dean is there at the register, and neither he nor the cashier look up until Castiel calls out to him. ]


Dean Winchester. I need you to come with me.

[ There's no question in Castiel's voice, just a deep, gruff tone of inevitability. He stands straight-backed with a stuff sort of confidence. The suit he wears is a size too large; the trench coat swims on him, practically concealing his hands. His tie is pulled loose. He's been driving for a very long time, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the fact that he's the one who found Dean, that Dean is here, and that he'll be the one to bring Dean home, no matter what Dean has to say about it. This is preordained. Castiel believes that. He'll do whatever it takes to see his mission through. ]
venatoris: hollow art (Default)

[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-06 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ God, he'd kill for a shower. Mow through all these nutjobs, actually - with little to no regret. ]

I seriously doubt that. Chuckles doesn't seem like someone that would vibe with me on any level.

[ He tosses the cloth into the bucket and settles back, letting his head rest against the wall, eyes closed. There isn't really a lot to say - Dean has no reason to have any extended conversation with the guy. Like. The bucket was great, he ate a little bit of food, but beyond that Dean's not really in a great mental space.

No one is coming. No one is coming, and it stings.

Dean's gotten himself out of scrapes before, crawled out of barred cells like it was nothing, but this is another ballgame. This is probably where every piece of who he is dies, and it's terrifying. ]


What do you need me to do so I can get the hell out of here?
venatoris: @infractus (pic#14750106)

[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ Neither of them know a goddamn thing, because God's 'chosen' is sitting in filthy jeans and a jail cell. ]

I'll cooperate with them if you can help me get out. [ Is that win/win? He's not sure, probably not. It's no secret Dean wants to be here, but at this point, after days and days locked in solitude, his only company someone throwing food at him for fear he'll attack...

He's ready to comply at least on some level. ]


Toes? I no longer have toes. They're gone, left to rot. [ He peers at his foot, because he's trying to joke and laugh but yeah his leg hurts, it's probably not pretty, and Castiel was right - Dean probably wouldn't have let anyone in, anyway. ]
venatoris: hollow art (Default)

[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's probably the fever talking, because Dean's head is hot and he's a little sweaty, but it's fine, he's been brushing it off the whole time Cas has been down here, acting like the good little angel he is. ]

Whoa, whoa. You better be kidding, dude. [ Cause, you know -- Cas is standing, and while Dean probably needs medical attention, the guy has been literally literal ever since they met, so Dean is grasping his wrist, wrapping dirty fingers around his skin, hold tight and hot. ]

Don't -- actually do that.
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Cas might take his wrist away from Dean's grip, but that doesn't stop him from wrapping his fingers into the material of Castiel's pant leg, because yeah he was joking, but also things are hot, and when injuries are hot, it usually isn't great. ]

Oh, you're allowed antibiotics, but not doctors?

[ Dean looks up at Castiel, triumphant like he's found some giant chink in the armor, ha, need a doctor for antibiotics, dontcha, but something in his expression twitches a little, and his grip tightens. ]

I don't feel good.
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
But only your creepy doctors.

[ His conviction is lacking, mostly because he feels like shit and he's not letting go of that pant leg, because it's solid and he's been down here so damn long without any real human interaction he's reluctant to let Cas leave again.

Dean gropes for his wrist again with his spare hand, gripping, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. ]


Don't...don't go.

[ It would be really, really easy for Castiel to manipulate Dean at this point. Cas is the one that brought him food. That came to him, that washed his hands and offered water to drink and wipe his face, that offers to treat his wounds. It isn't Dean's fault if he's getting a little attached. ]
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ With Castiel continuing to come in and out without any set schedule to run errands or whatever, it leaves Dean down here in the stinking darkness, curled in on himself and left to his thoughts. He's wallowing in his loneliness, the fact that he has nothing and no one, not even his car anymore.

And Dean's thoughts, when left alone without booze or sex or any number of questionable distractions, are dangerous.

He's tired, afraid, desperate for his freedom, and the longer he's left down here like a chained dog the more he's inclined to behave to see how far it gets him. Throwing his food certainly hasn't gotten him anywhere - compliance seems to be the only option left. Trying to remember himself is getting hard though, especially with the fever clouding his brain. He feels like shit.

Dean clutches Castiel's hand, shifting his head to look over at him, eyes a little glassy as he manages a smirk. ]


Sorry, man. Only toilet in the area.
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Talk to your buddies about that.

[ Because Dean would choose a big ol cabin. Something overlooking water, maybe. A home with a deck, those big wind up umbrellas to help with the shade, maybe some twinkle lights. A long dock, maybe a fishing boat. He's been daydreaming about it, so he doesn't go fucking apeshit down here alone in the dark.

Maybe he's already losing his mind, because he's sitting here holding Cas' hand, afraid to let him go, looking over at him like he's Jesus or something.

He sure does have nice lips. Big and plush and pillowy.

Did Jesus have nice lips? Hm. Something else to ponder in his delusion, maybe. He probably did, he would've been middle eastern, so why wouldn't he? Beard too, maybe.

He's torn from his sexualization of Jesus by the prospect of being walked like a dog, and he snorts a laugh, rolling his head to look at Cas proper, before letting it fall to rest on his shoulder. He's so tired, shivery in his skin, hot and cold. ]


I bet you do. I'll bet you anything if you asked that exact question, they'd let you. If it got me outta here, I'd let you.
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
I mean it. I'd let you. Only you, though. Nobody else. [ None of Castiel's freaky family would get close unless they clubbed Dean over the head and dragged him out by his hair.

Which may yet happen, who knows. ]


You make me warm. [ He gropes to rest his other hand on top of their clasped ones, fingers light, teasing at the soft skin on the underside of his wrist. Cas is warm and clean, here with Dean, a presence that's real and not of his own imagining. He doesn't want to let go. ]

Wanna know what I'm thinking about?
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's entirely possible Dean is dying. He's been down here days, bullet holes untreated and covered in dirty bandages, scared and alone and developing a fever, wounds hot and angry and red. ]

I'm thinking, [ He starts, ignoring Castiel's question in turn, lifting his head when Cas moves, ] about your mouth. Those lips, man. Wow

[ He turns his glassy gaze on Cas, bright, feverish, fixed entirely on Cas and Cas alone. He's pretty, Dean decides. He's pretty in an unusual, unique kind of way that Dean appreciates. Bright blue eyes that see right into Dean's soul, pink lipped mouth, a good jaw.

He lifts his hand to press his index finger to Cas' cheek, dragging it over stubble, before swiping over his lips. ]


I wanna taste 'em.
venatoris: hollow art (Default)

[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-11 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He'd been leaning in, eyes fixed on those perfect, lovely lips, wetting his own in anticipation when his hand is dropped and he's suddenly devoid of Castiel's heat.

Dean makes a whine of protest, the panic flaring in his eyes, and he automatically reaches for Cas' leg again, wrapping his fingers around fabric, needy, terrified. ]


Weapons? [ That hadn't been his ploy, Cas doesn't have a key so it doesn't do Dean any good to try poking for one in Castiel's oversized trench, to try and kill Castiel. In hindsight maybe he should've been after at least something he could use to pick the lock of his collar, but in the moment, in this hot headed, brain fogged moment, all Dean can think about is pretty pink lips and the absence of Castiel pressed against his body.

The phone falls from his fingers into his lap, the look on his face stricken, panic filled. ]


Cas, please don't leave me--

[ You keep leaving him and one day you're gonna leave and never come back and he's going to die in this fucking hole, stinking and alone and--

He can't help the sob that bubbles up. ]
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-12 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ Chains clink and rattle as Dean goes into Castiel's arms, winding around him as best as he can. His body aches - his joints hurt, his muscles ache. His veins feel full of liquid fire, but he's shivering violently in Castiel's grip, clutching at his coat, Dean burying his face into Cas' neck. ]

It's dark down here. [ His voice is muffled, small. A little wild - he's certainly delirious, but he speaks the truth.

His truths, the quiet ones he doesn't share with anyone else. ]


I don't like the dark.

[ Castiel smells good, he vaguely registers. Like...soap and shampoo. Clean things, things of safety and warmth. Detergent, which means clean clothes, a soft bed. Clean sheets. Somewhere to lay down and be safe, that isn't dirty and filthy and disgusting and dark. ]

Please stay.

[ Realistically, Cas needs to get Dean treatment of some kind, and soon, before it all goes septic and their 'Chosen One' dies from staph. But goddamn Dean doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts and fears.

His voice is practically a whisper, soft and barely audible. ]


Don't leave me.
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[personal profile] venatoris 2021-07-12 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes burn as he squeezes them closed; tears or exhaustion, it's hard to say. Dean clutches at Castiel, leaning into him, unwilling to let go as they shift to slightly more comfortable positions.

Dean had already forgotten about the phone - if there was any indication of how far out of it he is, it's that damned cell phone. Cas literally handed him the most useful tool he possibly could have, and Dean dropped it, didn't even give it a second thought.

He barely gives it a thought now, looking at Cas with red eyes as he fishes it out of his lap and wordlessly hands it over. He'll probably hate himself later, when he's better, if he survives this, for not utilizing the phone while he had it, but for now he just...gives it back, without question. ]