foolintherain | INBOX #305682

[ There's no resistance from Dean, and Castiel doesn't know if that's good or bad. He tries not to think about it, or think at all. He tries to remember what it was like to be stoned out of his mind and carelessly reckless. He goes up on his toes to kiss the bridge of Dean's nose, then his freckled cheeks. It feels new and unfamiliar, and Castiel has never hated his grace more. Despite the soft actions, his voice is low and rough. ]

Need me.

[ He answers, and then with the reminder that needing an angel's grace and needing someone's affections are two very different things, he clarifies between soft, what he hopes are mollifying kisses. ]

Like this. Like... how I need you.

[ In other words: utterly, hopelessly, and dangerously devoted. "Homoerotically codependent," as a certain angel would call it. It was one thing for them to be so indulgent at the end of the world where the devil had already won and Sam was lost. But back home, and even here, there's too much at risk. Dean has so much to lose, and much more to gain. He could have that normal, human family life he deserves. It's right there, with Lisa. Castiel's chest is tight, but he doesn't need oxygen. He doesn't let himself breathe and relieve that tension, because it would come out a sigh. He stays stiff instead, the line of his shoulders in rigid contrast to the soft brush of his fingers over Dean's jaw as he leans back again, just enough to look at him, and reinforce his words with unblinking eye contact. ]

You deserve so much more than you give yourself, Dean.

So, um. Cas.

You're... different from before, right? I mean... you're not... my Cas anymore?

You're from the right timeline now, I mean. The better one?

[This is really weird. Also there's, um, y'know. The whole 'are you and my brother a thing' that came up, but he had been so side-tracked by his older self being... not right either... Man, they're all such a complete mess.]

Too bad.

[ Should've could've would've's don't do anyone any good; it's too late, Dean's too deep. He does need Cas, and it has nothing to do with angelic grace or power, or because of what Cas is, inside that vessel. It has nothing to do with what Cas can do for him and everything to do with the fact that Dean's hopelessly, carelessly, recklessly in love with him. Timeline shifting and magic and whatever aside, those feelings didn't disappear. Those memories didn't flutter away. He remembers every kiss, every touch; Cas' smile as Dean leaned in between his thighs to steal soft kisses in the greenhouse, the way they curled together in bed at night, tangled limbs and sweaty foreheads, panted breaths, white hot kisses, and curls of pleasure.

The kisses Cas gives him now are soft on his skin, sweet and tender, but each one he's gifted with stabs like knife in his soul, twisting deeper in his heart, the ache trickling out like a fatal, slow bleeding wound. It feels like some kind of final goodbye, like Cas is trying to let him down gently by giving him what he thinks he needs, and it hurts, but more than that - it leaves him a little frantic, desperate.

He slides his hands up under Cas' coats, around his waist, fingers curling in his shirt, pulling at the material to untuck it so he can get his hands on skin. ]

You keep -- telling me what I need, what I don't need, what you think I deserve, but what about what I want? I dunno how many times I've gotta tell you that I want you. I don't care what flavor you come in. Dickhead angel or junkie, I just want you.

[ There's a pathetic plea in his voice that Dean doesn't like; he sounds weak and needy, terrified and small. Like he's a little kid again, asking his daddy where Mommy went, and getting only silence in reply. ]

Edited 2021-11-29 15:05 (UTC)

[ Ah, well this conversation was inevitable. It would be better had in person, Castiel thinks, but then there's a higher chance of running into the other Sam, or worse, Dean, so... This is fine. Voice, it is. ]

Hello, Sam. I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner. I'm...

[ That's a good question, actually? Castiel has other more immediate problems involving the Winchesters. He hadn't given the nature of circular timelines much thought until now. ]

I'm the same person that I was, but—

[ Just, you know, not constantly stoned and/or inebriated, also not depressed and not remotely human, anymore, so... Very different, actually. #itscomplicated ]

—my grace has been restored, and I somehow returned to a point before it had ever been lost, as if that reality - the one you, Dean, and I remember - was... cyclical, I suppose is the best way to describe it.

[ All that time spent with Dean before... To Castiel, it feels like a drug-induced hallucination. That time was equal parts horrible and wonderful, and still nothing in comparison to returning to a timeline in which none of it had happened. Those past months or days living in a black hole resembling a cocoon were mentally torturous to Cas. And now, back in this place... Obviously Castiel isn't handling it well.

Neither is Dean, obviously, from the desperate way he reacts. The feeling of Dean untucking Castiel's shirt and sliding hands against his ~~vessel's~~ body's skin is muffled and distant, but the memory of it is clear enough to send a warm flush through Castiel as if that distance wasn't there. He listens to Dean and how his voice breaks with honest need, and instinctively, Cas pulls him in closer by the hand on his cheek and kisses his mouth fully this time, and again, with rushed, warm exhalations he doesn't remember inhaling, and growing heat. ]

Tell me again.

[ He demands against Dean's mouth as he drops one hand to cover Dean's and push his palm more firmly against his skin, higher under his shirt. He remembers that conversation with Dean on one cold autumn afternoon that feels like months ago, not verbatim, but the human, dream-like impression of it. "You can trust me with your heart," Dean had said. "I'm different. I like us." That wasn't either of them, was it? But Cas wants it to be. ]

Tell me we can still have this. Ask me to stay.

[ You shouldn't, logic demands. They have to go back to their own reality. It's an eventuality. And when they do, they'll go back to who they were before they broke the world together. It's already happened. Free will is a lie, but it's a lie Castiel is still desperate to believe. ]

Please, Dean...

[ If he thinks on it, he can just remember the smell of Cas' hands, the way stale smoke always curled around his aura, lingering in his hair, his clothes, invading Dean's nose, sending his heart thumping in his chest; again and again and again - the repetitive motion rattling against his ribs, his breath too loud, the way it fills his lungs and echoes in his head.

All Dean wants is the touch of lips and warmth of Cas against him, and he's easily manipulated, fingers pushed under Cas' palms, tracing up the planes of muscle and bone, over his spine, sweeping over as directed, shifting closer, his mouth opening under rushed kisses, helpless to it; breathy, needy. ]

Please stay. [ It's whispered, begged; Dean breathes him in, memorizing the new scents, replacing stale smoke and liquor with ozone and fresh earth, the pads of his fingers pressing against Cas' back, resolve faltering as he caves, fallible as always. ]

Stay with me. Cas, please. I just want you. I want what we had, I feel like I'm missing a part of me, like it's some piece of a puzzle I've lost.

Edited 2021-12-01 13:07 (UTC)

[Because texts and voicemails can (and often do from Sam) go ignored. But a prayer can't be blocked out that he's aware of. Like a direct, unstoppable line, poor bastard on the other end.

Sam hasn't done much praying for a while now. And in Trench? None at all. Not that it matters, no one would have heard them.

This, however, is a strategic prayer. So pick up, shithead. ]

O Castiel. Who art.. wherever. It's Sam. Listen to me.

So.. my soul is missing? I guess? But I might know where it is. I can fix this.. there's this cat, apparently. And on it's collar is a marble or jewel or something. Anyway, story goes it holds a whole universe inside it. So I think it's there. If you could just come here for a minute...

Edited 2021-12-02 16:00 (UTC)

[ If Sam thinks that Castiel can't ignore a prayer, he doesn't know Castiel very well.

And honestly, he's tempted. This isn't entirely Sam, after all. So this "prayer" is probably a ploy or a trap, or an excuse to get more weed. Cas is very tempted to ignore it.

Unfortunately, Castiel hasn't had much luck remedying the "trapped soul" problem on his own, and there is a chance, however slim, that Sam is telling the truth. With a sigh, Castiel steps out of the third dimension, wings opened in flight, and a moment later, he appears standing in front of Sam, his hair and coat gently stirred by the momentum. ]

I've never heard that story. You have a cat?

[Can't, sure, but it seemed less likely. And hey, you answered, didn't you.

Sam nearly snorts once Cas appears, but he's grateful. Let's just get this over with.]

Seriously? That worked? That's the plot of Men In Black.

[ What Castiel needs is an addiction to escape from cold logic, and here it is, in the form of Dean's open mouth and warm hands. He feels different, smells and tastes sharper, more complicated than the earthy smells of burned weed and absinthe, but the way he opens for Cas and his sweet, whispered confession is better than familiar; he can feel Dean's soul again, still brilliantly radiant, and Cas sighs with satisfaction against Dean's mouth as he presses fully against him, into his embrace, pressing Dean's back to the railing of the stairs. ]

Yes. I'll stay. I'll stay with you for as long as you'll have me.

[ It feels a bit like bleeding to say it, like lancing a bruise that's been bubbling under his skin since he left Dean alone (but didn't) all those weeks ago. The stone bracelet around his wrist has been warmed by his skin, but it feels strange and unfamiliar: not gemstone or blood or arsenic, but some new chemical combination that's similar to all three. It's uniquely Dean, and he's given it to Castiel, and savors the weight of it against his skin the same way he savors Dean's open mouth and callused hands: like inhaling sweet smoke, and holding it in his lungs, and smiling. ]

[ Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal, Samuel. ]

Of course.

[ Castiel's expression falls, and though he doesn't move from where he stiffly stands, if Sam could see his wings, he'd see the feathers rise, getting puffy with indignation. Why are you like this, Sam?

Oh, because Castiel brought your body back while leaving your soul trapped in an infernal cage between two very violently antagonistic archangels. Right. ]

Is there something you need?

[ Let's just get this over with is now apparently a shared sentiment. ]

[All of his bad behaviour is your fault. Sucks to be you.]

It's about Dean.

[Hence the sneak attack.]

I'm gonna say it again, I don't care what you guys are up to, but whatever you did to him lately you need to fix. Now.

[ The swell of affection that wells up shakes him to his core; Dean is a feeler, he is a caring man who is riddled with emotions, who cares so deeply though he often doesn't always find the words to show it. It's in the things he does for people, in his actions, but with Cas, it seems like he's finally learned something for the better.

Before, when they were them, he'd confessed love, asked for trust, finally asked for commitment. All of that is still there, those feelings, those wants and needs and sentiments, but he's too distracted by the kisses left on his mouth, by the wood pressing into his back as he's pushed against the railing, at the helpless whine of emotion that bubbles up and sticks in the back of his throat, thoughts a blur and a cloud; I'm in love with you, I need you, Trust me, Stay, Don't go. ]

I meant everything I said, [ he manages to get out between kisses that he can't seem to stop giving and asking for, the air from his lungs stolen, his soul bared and flayed for Cas' easy perusal. ]

Then and now.

[ That's true, but also Sam was a blood-sucking affront to God long before Cas came along, so like, is it really Castiel's fault?

Luckily for Sam, he says the magic word and instantly has Castiel's unfettered attention sans all sass. His shoulders drop slightly and his eyes narrow with concern. ]

What's wrong with Dean?

[ CaS DId NOthING wrONg??? But also who did what to Dean then, who does Cas have to kill? Or what is Sam trying to do, here, exactly. ]

[ Deer County is a dangerous and strange oasis from Lawrence, Kansas, and every second Castiel walks the cobblestones and creaking wood of this place, he's reminded of how wrong he was to believe that this place at the end of the world was meant for him and Dean to love each other and let the rest of the multilayered universe go on without them. Now he sees how wrong he was; time isn't a branching tree, but a vine twisted over itself. ~~A Jeremy Bearimy, if you will.~~ There is no escaping what they're destined for. This bastion of Trench is only one knot in the ivy, and before long, they'll be back on that winding forward path.

I'm in love with you, Dean says with his mouth, and his hands, and very, very loudly with his soul, so that it reverberates through his grace. Castiel's body shivers at the sensation as he returns Dean's needy kisses with the same flurried devotion. ]

I know. I knew, but I—

[ I don't deserve you, I'll only disappoint you, When you find out— ]

I'm sorry.

[ Castiel tries to stop thinking about it, or anything other than this moment, and Dean, and how beautiful he is right now. Cas's hands leave the back of Dean's only in search of more of him. He pushes his hands under Dean's shirt to feel the familiar warmth of his skin under his fingertips, the fret of Dean's ribs, and the dip of his hipbones as Castiel tugs Dean by his hips forward and rocks against him in a dirty grind. ]

I love you. Dean, I've always loved you... I've never stopped.

[ He sighs into Dean's mouth between peppered kisses, the words a fluttery whisper under the rush of sensation from Dean's warmth, inside and out. He wants to forget what he knows, and this, with Dean— Dean makes any weight bearable. ]

[One could also argue Sam is a blood sucking afront because of God or at least his most prized archangels. But. You know. Semantics.]

Well he's been moping around like a whipped bitch ever since you two woke up and you haven't been back, so that means you did something.

Which means you need to undo it.

[ There's probably a choice argument to be had about that, about free will and fate, about why Cas thinks they have to go back and how Dean would rather chew his own leg off than let that happen. ]

I'm sorry, too.

[ And he is - for overreacting, for being emotional after they'd just woken up, for being an ass and pushing Cas away, for making assumptions that likely weren't entirely correct. Not that they're both blameless, but neither is the solely guilty party, either. ]

Tell me again.

[ Because he needs to hear it, needs reassurance, needs Cas' hands on him, on his skin and on his soul. He drinks Cas' kisses down greedily, like sweet wine, his hands passing over Cas' back where he's got them up under the angels shirt, under the layers that are both familiar and somehow foreign, like they were a skin Cas had shed somewhere along the way. ]

I need -- to hear it, again.

[ Dean tips his hips against Cas', slotting them together and pressing right back against him, his need obvious in both his kisses and fervent, desperate touches, and the hardness of his cock inside his jeans. ]

[ Ah. So, nothing's wrong with Dean, and Castiel's expression immediately hardens. ]

Just so we're clear, was that before or after you threatened him with a knife?

[ There is nothing that Dean needs to apologize for, in Castiel's mind; they're both victims of untouchable, capricious gods and the doggedly obstinate hand of fate. But Cas doesn't argue it. Not right now. He's exhausted by circumstance and time wasted while being at odds with Dean. They're together now, increasingly intimately, and it's the high Cas has been without. He'd do anything to keep Dean like this, touching and kissing him, just the way they are. Repeating the words is a comparably small request from the mountains Castiel would move to sun himself in the continued warmth of Dean's affection. ]

I love you.

[ It's surprisingly easy to say, as if the weight of it has been lifted just by speaking the words aloud. Castiel feels light, thinner, almost transparent. He holds onto Dean like a tether to the Earth, and Dean's kisses and the press of his (noticeably hard) body have him panting between wet-mouthed kisses, similarly aroused. His hands push back up under Dean's shirt. His thumbs trace Dean's ribs. "You whom I have prepared as cups for a wedding or as the flowers in their beauty for the chamber of righteousness—" Jealousy is a sin, but how hasn't Castiel sinned these days? ]

And I want you.

[ As he pushes against Dean, rocking to seam eager rhythm as their increasingly breathless kisses, there's a floorboard the creaks each time. A month ago, Cas wouldn't have cared. He likely wouldn't even have noticed. But now it's a loud, sharp sound, and the guilt of time and place and exposure is impossible for him to ignore. His hands flatten against Dean's stomach, and he pulls away from his kisses, apologetically slow. ]

...Hold on—

[ Castiel means that literally, because in the next moment, he's pushing against Dean again, but with a different kind of purpose. Dean's back goes through the shadow of where the stairs should be, and Castiel steps forward with him through space, wings opening to catch the current of time, and in the next blink, landing them standing beside the bed they used to share. The door's already closed. It's indulgently private and achingly nostalgic. Castiel pauses only after they've arrived, and though he's still flushed with arousal, he waits to gauge Dean's reaction and see if he's overstepped, metaphorically as well as literally. ]

I don't see what that has to do with anything.

[ Well, Sam is about to find out what it has to do with, because Castiel immediately steps forward and grabs him by the throat, not hard enough to actually choke him, but with a grip that's unbreakably strong, by human standards. ]

Listen very carefully, Sam. If anything happens to Dean— if he's killed by anyone or any thing in this universe, I don't care who it was, or how it happened: I will take it out on your ass.

[Phew. Alright, well, the conversation's out there.

He's just not sure if he should be upset or relieved that Cas is still his Cas in some way. After all, it was — a bad world they came from. A really bad, bleak world, where there wasn't a whole lot in life to look forward to. And now he's got to live with that in this new point in time...?]

I — I guess it's nice, to... to not be alone. I thought maybe it was just me left from that... though I guess it's not like I remember any of it. Of being older, anyway, so... Sorry, it's been hard to figure out how I feel about any of that.

Your grace, that's the stuff that makes an angel an angel, right?

[What a special relationship they have. So beautiful. So intimate. God, he forgot what a dick you are.

Castiel's hand around his throat should stop Sam cold. It should impress upon him the seriousness of the threat and the complexity of the feelings behind it. He should be afraid, or at least very worried, but he doesn't feel it.

He doesn't feel anything.

There is no change in his heartbeat. No spike of emotion. Your threats don't work, he doesn't care. The Sam who would care would never be in this moment to begin with.

But that Sam isn't home right now and this one knows he can't punch an angel off of him, so his only choice is to stay still, eyes locked and face blank until he huffs a small scoff. Fat chance, buddy.]

I'm not my brother's keeper. And if you do anything to me, Dean really will hate you. Now let go of me and get lost.

[ Sam is a good person with a good soul, and somehow Castiel thought that, even deprived of it, Sam would still act the way he had, like riding a bicycle, so to speak.

Instead he gets this: a problem that, rather than comforting Dean, endangers him. Cas sees now that, until Sam's soul can be retrieved, he's a liability. As he holds Sam by the neck and looks into his eyes, he sees the cold, gooey emptiness there, and it scares him. There is reasoning with demons and monsters. There is no reasoning with this. His right hand remains on Sam's neck, but his left drops to Sam's chest. ]

"And the lord said unto him, therefore whomsoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold."

[ "And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him." With an ear-piercing whistle, Castiel's hand, pressed to Sam's chest, begins to glow, and Sam will feel a burning like the muscle of his chest is being peeled away in quick pieces, but there's no marks there on his shirt or on his skin, only pain.

The pain is over quickly, horrible and tortuous for only a few seconds, and then only the sting of it remains. Between one blink and the next, Castiel takes Sam's advice and is gone. ]

You're a Winchester, Sam. The two of you are very magnetic. I can't imagine either of you would ever be alone for long.

[ Not if Castiel could help it, and he certainly does try. Hopefully, said grace will help with that. At the very least, he can watch out for this Sam while he is still young and impressionable ~~and with his soul intact, bless him for that~~. ]

In the same way that your soul and blood make you what you are, my grace is the very essence of who I am, yes.

INBOX #305682

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voice. un: sam | not long after dean and cas woke up bc im lame and slow

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voice. un: 42069 | slowbro high-five

cw: cas gettin spicy like the good old days

cas is real spicy

A Prayer. End of November.

action

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he's just got a Whole Lotta Love

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more like a whole lotta Communication Breakdown lbr

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you're not wrong... Bad Romance, B-side

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went ahead and fixed it lmao

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fix what? i saw nothing

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voice.

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cw: description of gore

voice.