foolintherain | INBOX #305682

A setup?

[ It's good to hear that Ariadne is alright, given she was potentially in danger, but that sounds even worse, to Castiel. He scrambles for whom to blame. It wouldn't be Anakin or Ariadne. Sam seemed less than concerned for Dean's wellbeing, but he wasn't corrupted at the time, so he'd have had nothing to gain by having Dean killed. Which leaves only the informant. ]

That... Maul person?

[ does Castiel have to smite a bitch ]

I don't know. [ It's honest, because he really doesn't. ]

He was there, but I dunno...Anakin almost seemed like he knew I was coming. And Sam..

[ He pauses, hesitating a little because he doesn't really want to believe it. ]

It's almost like Sam just let it happen.

[ Maul or Sam, then. ...But the possibility is there that it was both of them. Or just Sam, for some reason, but what reason would he have for wanting Dean dead? Other than Dean's heartbreak being annoying to him, but Castiel was sure that his threat was enough to ensure Sam wouldn't intentionally set Dean up to be killed...

Regardless, that's something Castiel decides he can look into on his own. Dean needs to focus on healing himself. So now that Castiel has the information, he doesn't ask for more, only tilts Dean's chin up and meets his eyes, to reassure him. ]

You know that Sam, the Sam that we know, wouldn't do something like that.

It’s.. it’s still Sam.

[ He’s very weakly trying to defend his brother, here. Because he’s supposed to. ]

We’ll fix it. We’ll fix him.

Of course.

[ Since Sam's incapacitation, Castiel's been researching beasthood, and... It's grim, at best. Most of the sources he consulted recommended death. Theoretically, Sam would be resurrected just as Dean was, but... There's always the chance that he might not return. Castiel isn't sure which Dean would prefer — his brother as a beast or no brother at all — and so he doesn't ask. He hasn't given up hope of curing Sam just yet. "Incredibly difficult" is different from "impossible," and the Winchesters are very good at beating the odds.

Anyway, with Dean still healing, Sam's past actions and current condition are the last things Dean needs to be thinking about. So, he decides to circle back around and answer one of Dean's earlier questions. He begins running his fingers through Dean's hair again, and his voice lilts a bit. ]

You know the... club in Cellar Door, Earworm?

[ Cas can't remember if he's ever taken Dean there. Probably not, because it wasn't Dean's scene, back when Cas was visiting the club nightly, but also he can't remember a lot of his nights spent there, so... maybe. ]

[ he shifts a little closer against Cas, wanting the contact, the press of heat against him. He hates how needy he feels, but at the same time, he doesn’t give a shit. ]

Yeah. That’s where Sam and I were when he came at me with a knife.

[ you know, when he called you a junkie and dean punched him in the nose. ]

Edited 2021-12-22 01:08 (UTC)

[ For years, Cas craved that except sensation: the press of heat from another living body, any body. Being an angel with a vastly different kind of anatomy from a human, he shouldn't feel that way anymore. But he does, with Dean. Dean has always been the exception. Dean leans more against him, and it sends a pleasant little flush of heat through Castiel, incredibly. He presses his nose to Dean's hair and lets his right hand trail lower, brushing over the stubble of Dean's cheek and jaw and quietly marveling at the slow, steady pulse proving that Dean is wonderfully, incredibly alive. ]

I see.

[ ...Despite Sam's best efforts, apparently. But this turn of conversation isn't supposed to be about Sam, goddamn it. So Cas doesn't let himself dwell. ]

Well, you asked before how much it took. I drank about two and a half bottles of what they consider their strongest grain alcohol, in shots.

[ Sam still got him in the end, didn't he. Came at Dean with a knife towards his belly, slashing away, Dean only skittering away in the nick of time.

It's a vivid, visceral memory that twists his heart up in his chest. The chatter about Cas and his booze is a nice distraction. ]

With...Bolin? Two and a half bottles of that rotgut they sell here?

[ Let's please not talk about Sam stabbing Dean, or also the reason why Dean was at that bar to begin with. Silly stories only. ]

About that, yes. Though I don't entirely remember if I stopped there, or the majority of how the night ended.

[ After a moment's thought, Castiel is quick to assure Dean: ]

Obviously your friend Bolin wasn't allowed to touch the stuff, or any of the more... interesting indulgences that Earmworm has to offer.

[ Yeah, no need to chat about their fight and all that.

And it's good to calm him down, but Dean can feel himself beginning to get worked up, face twisting in a little frown. ]

Glad to hear it. What about you? Did you touch any of the 'interesting indulgences that Earworm has to offer'?

[ Since, you know. You ARE reverting. ]

[ Castiel pulls back a little to see the expression Dean's making, because he gets the distinct impression from Dean's tone that he's not talking about the magic mushrooms. ]

If you're asking if I fucked anyone while I was mourning you, Dean. No. It didn't even occur to me.

[ The jealous tone would be flattering if Cas hadn't actually screwed around on Dean, before the whole timeline doubled back on itself. Now it's just a sore reminder of how badly he screwed up. It's not a mistake he'd make again, even if he were stoned out of his mind. Which he basically was, that first night. ]

[ That makes him laugh -- hard, so much so that it turns into a wheezing cough that he has to dampen with a choked down glass of whiskey. ]

God, I'm not sure I'm gonna get used to you you saying the word 'fuck'.

[ Well.. if it gets Dean laughing, maybe it's worth a little residual shame. Although that scratch to Dean's lungs is a little concerning. As Dean drinks, Castiel rubs his back gently and presses his grace like a warm blanket into Dean's chest, but the slowly regenerating tissue doesn't fully heal. It's endlessly frustrating. There's more tiredness than amusement in Castiel's voice. ]

Apologies. I'll try to limit the more colorful words in my vocabulary, at least until you've fully recovered.

[ It feels good, that blanket of grace - and while it doesn't necessarily help the cough or the recovery, it still feels good, and he burrows closer, the smile still teasing at his lips. ]

I kinda like it.

[ Well that's reassuring, though not entirely surprising, given from whom Cas learned the majority of those words. ]

Then consider it incentive to rest and heal quickly.

[ He offers a small, fond smile back as he leans back against the headboard to offer Dean more room to cozy up. Since there's no objections, he lets himself probe a bit further and assess how well Dean's muscles and bones are knitting themselves back together into the majestic and familiar patterns Castiel is intimately acquainted with.

It's a bit of a double-edged sword, having his grace back. He feels whole and capable, this way. But there's a lot he gained by being human that he feels like he's lost now. And Dean's questions have him wondering... ]

Did you...?

[ Ultimately though, he regrets asking and dismisses the question quickly with a shake of his head. What good would it do, to know? No, he doesn't want to hear it. ]

It's not important. Never mind.

Yes, dear.

[ Cas leans back and Dean drapes over him like an octopus, all limbs and sucking kisses as he presses his face into his angels neck. This is all he wants, to be near him, to touch, do all the things they didn't do back home - and repeat all the things they did do in Deerington. ]

Oh no, no way. There's no way you're not gonna finish that question. Did I what?

[ Obviously the endearment is facetious, but Castiel takes a strange sort of pride in hearing it, anyway. Or maybe that's just Dean's neck kisses that he's enjoying. Both, most likely. His hands push up under Dean's shirt at the back to feel warm skin under his palms, an echo to the shapes he's tracing with liquid grace. ]

Ah—

[ The question is a bit of a downer, though. Castiel briefly considers asking something else, but curiosity is a bitch. Ultimately, the original thought wins out, and he asks, noticeably quiet, hands slowing a bit in their exploration of Dean's skin. ]

You keep asking if I'm "reverting." Did you prefer... Was I better, that way?

[ He pauses in his thorough investigation of Cas' neck, of tasting and tracing little patterns with his tongue, and peels himself back so he can get a better look at the angels face. ]

What? No. Not-- better.

[ He makes a face, because that's a complicated question. ]

I've told you before that all I want is you with me, by my side, in my damn bed. Angel, junkie, and everything in between.

[ That's a non-answer, as far as Castiel is concern, and he should just leave it at that. But like a thorn in the lion's paw, the doubt is incapacitating. His hands come fully to rest, and he looks away, disappointed in himself that he can't just let this go. Ever since they emerged from their slimy cocoons, though, he's felt this way, and he's not sure what else to do about it, other than ask Dean's opinion. ]

Of course. ...And I know that. You're unrelentingly kind, generous, and infinitely forgiving.

[ There's nothing wrong with Dean. There never has been. The problem is with Castiel himself. He doesn't know who he is. He's trying to decide who he should be, but he doesn't know which version Dean would prefer. But obviously Dean is offended by the question, so Castiel will just have to go back to trying to figure it out on his own. He looks at Dean again with lowered eyes, still distant, and his hands come up to slowly stroke Dean's back again, soothing and apologetic. ]

I'm sorry. It was an unfair question. Forget I asked.

No, I'm not gonna forget it. I don't...know how to answer it, because I don't want you to feel like you have to be one way or another to satisfy me. I just want you to be you.

[ Wiggling a little to free his slightly less jelly legs from the tangle of sheets, he moves to sit up and push Cas back, and sit on him. ]

It's not unfair. Do we need to talk about this? Like, really, really talk about this, instead of sweeping it under the rug like we usually do?

[ When Dean pushes to sit up, Castiel tenses, and his hands come up immediately to Dean's elbows to make sure that he's steady, in case he plans to stand up and storm out. Luckily, he does just the opposite by climbing into Castiel's lap, and the thrill of heat Cas feels is wonderfully involuntary, just from the weight of Dean's thighs and his undivided attention. There are suddenly much more enjoyable activities Cas would rather be doing than having a conversation about his poorly timed identity crisis. His hands rest possessively on Dean's hips, his confidence found there, even if he can't yet bring himself to meet Dean's eyes. ]

Thank you, Dean. But... you're right. This is something that I need to figure out for myself.

[ Hopefully Dean's assuaged well enough to drop the subject, but if not... Well, then Castiel looks forward to further convincing him. He starts by tugging Dean by his hips a bit more firmly against his lap, and he tilts his face up to kiss under Dean's jaw, mirroring the attention he so enjoyed receiving before. ]

If there is one thing I'm sure of, though, it's how thoroughly I'm in love with you.

Mmm, yeah, probably.

[ That's fair. The only person that can figure out who Cas truly is is the angel himself. Dean doesn't want to influence him one way or another, but he knows for damn sure he wants Cas to come home to him every night, and curl with him by the fire, and maybe have filthy sex on a persian rug in front of it.

Ideal, really.

Dean goes easily against him, drapes his arms around Cas' neck and tips his head back with a pleased little growl. How easily man is distracted by fornication and confessions of devotion. ]

You could tell me that on repeat and I'd never get tired of hearing it.

[ Bless Dean's simple, horny nature. He's receptive to Castiel's kisses, and Cas smiles against his throat for it, and then chuckles at Dean's flattery. ]

I'll have it pressed on vinyl for you.

[ He teases between open-mouthed kisses to Dean's neck. Then he sucks a very mouth-shaped bruise just above where Dean's pulse flutters away, wonderfully, beautifully alive. Castiel sighs after, utterly contented as he breathes in the salt-and-fire smell of Dean's skin and soul. His thumbs trace the jut of Dean's hipbones just above the line of his jeans while he nuzzles Dean's neck like a possessive cat, and asks with a low sort of purr to his rough voice. ]

You're still recovering. Are you sure that you're up for, uh... vigorous activity?

[ He is a Simple Man™, after all. ]

I'll treasure it forever.

[ Cas lips on his skin also sends his pulse racing, blood roaring in his veins. He pushes a hand into his hair, keeping him there; mark his skin like you marked his ribs, like you marked his shoulder, like you marked his soul. ]

I'm more than up for this.

INBOX #305682

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