foolintherain | INBOX #305682

the miniature or standard version?

[ It's probably not great that Dean is asking, either way. ]

Edited 2021-10-20 20:18 (UTC)

moose sized.

[ He's not wrong. ]

relatively recently, though i uh
dont entirely remember the last hour of the conversation

[ Someone was extra special wasted at the time.

Hm... About that... Cas still needs to talk to Dean about the meeting of Sam Interventionalists, but... it just never seems like a good time. Because Dean's going to get angry about it, and Cas would really like to avoid Dean being pissed at him after that last bout of extreme pissedness. ]

[ great ]

he's creepin me out, man

[ Man, if Sam is stealing other people's life force like Evelyn suggested, Cas is going to feel very guilty he didn't mention it to Dean sooner. ]

in the "suddenly much more fun that he used to be" kind of way?
or something worse than getting high and frequenting the local red light district?

[ yeah cas, you're gonna feel real bad if there's a buncha sleepers lookin like this guy hanging around. Yikes. ]

in a 'he's not acting like himself and i don't even want to be in the same car with him' kind of way.

[ Especially if they don't gel over with eyeballs and come back to life as shiny new squids. ]

we should talk.
greenhouse?

be right there.

[ for sam to creep this dean out - that's saying something. he heads right out to the greenhouse, pacing when he gets there. ]

[ Though Dean's close to home than Cas, lamp travel is a blessed convenience, and Cas is there at the greenhouse before Dean has completely worn a track into the dirt floor with his pacing. Cas smiles, reflexively, to see him, and then remembering the less than pleasant reason for this tryst, grows somber, sighing as he pulls the tarp down behind him, closing them in. Turning to Dean, Cas rests his hands on his hips and frowns, then begins speaking quietly. Better not to beat around the bush. Of all the things Dean's sensitive about, Sam is always issue #1. ]

Dean... Sam, uh... When we were toking, told me something about, uh... About going home. Between leaving Deerington and arriving in the ocean here, he woke up where he'd dragged Lucifer into the pit. After Hell.

[ That Sam was even smoking weed with Cas - his boyfriend, is a glaring red sign.

Deans face slips into something a little harder, irritation crossing his features, before he shakes it off.

Sam wouldn't dare. Neither would Cas. There's some lines you just don't cross. ]

What do you mean? He woke up in hell? Or--

[ Well that's an uncomfortable look Dean gives him, and after the uncomfortable week they've had before this one, not entirely underserved. Cas looks down, fiddles briefly with the pill bottle in his pocket and then decides, nope, saving those for later.

He does help himself to crossing the small space of the greenhouse, though, brushing Dean's hand along the way as a poor excuse for the reassurance he can't offer with his eyes, and then hopping upon his favorite back bench, next to the flickering flames of his inextinguishable pot bush. ]

After Hell. He said he didn't remember...

[ Of course, we all remember Dean lying about his own Hell memories, but then those were of your everyday Hell, not Lucifer's cage. Cas reaches into his jacket's breast pocket and pulls out a shiny new silver cigarette holder. He pops it open, pulls a joint out with his lips and speaks around it as he pockets the box again. ]

Has he been sleeping, like, at all?

[ Weird question, probably but it's more likely that Dean will answer honestly than Sam. And maybe, hopefully, Cas is wrong about this. ]

[ It has not been a great October for them, no. But they're here, they're alive, Cas promised no more orgies, so it's fine. It's just fine.

He watches Cas hop up, eyes staying fixed on his angel, watching his every move, tracing over his body with familiar affection. No matter what happens, they always stumble right back into one another, don't they. ]

Uh, I don't know. We don't share a room so I haven't been keeping track of his sleep schedule.

[ Just, you know.

Yours. ]

But he's been up at night when I came to bed, and awake in the morning when I got up, so if he's sleeping, it doesn't seem like much.

[ That Dean's forgiven him his trespasses isn't something Cas takes for granted. Yeah, back in The End of the World, all they had was each other. But here... Dean has Sam. He has Sams, a family, and a home, and a world that's not kind but also isn't one where humanity is being actively scoured from the Earth. He has a future here, and that future doesn't have to involve Cas.

And Cas almost fucked that up. No, he's not taking Dean's forgiveness for granted. Which makes this whole Sam thing even more complicated. Cas lights up his joint as he listens to Dean telling him the worst case scenario. "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." But it's not easy to go to God when you're trapped in a cage with The Devil. Cas exhales a puff of smoke slowly, like meditation, or saying the word "fuuuuck." ]

I think... Sam is here, but his soul is trapped in some other alternate universe.

[ He's...still a little wary, but he's also feeling particularly possessive. He'd come home, wanted...more. Wanted commitment, wanted Cas to promise not to do that shit again.

He wants more, now, but that isn't what they're discussing, is it.

Dean's expression darkens, then crinkles into what's obvious confusion. ]

...What?

[ They could blame their never-ending shitty circumstances for why they don't have honest conversations about what they want and how easy it could be to get it but, lbr, it's just them. ]

I mean that literally.

[ What Cas would give to tell Dean that Sam just needs time, that he's traumatized in a normal, instead of a supernatural, way and therapy would help. How do you help not having a soul when you're not even in your home world? They're fucked, and Cas really really wishes he didn't have to be the one to explain to Dean, again, that he's lost Sam. Cas inhales quickly and holds it to savor the burn in his lungs as he answers Dean. ]

Souls aren't just little batteries that make people run until they don't. Having a soul is... what makes you human. Gives you morals. Lets you... sleep well at night. And all that jazz.

[ Cas is pretty sure he doesn't have one. But Dean? Dean's soul is beautiful... Probably not the time to wax poetic on it, though. He stares at Dean with wide, apologetic eyes and a mouth full of ash, and then leans forward, offering the joint to Dean wordlessly. ]

And you think Sam is missing his? C'mon, Cas -- he's acting weird, he's not a damn dementor.

[ Is he? He doesn't seem convinced as he reaches to take the joint, watching the haze of smoke slip past Cas' lips, a disjointed memory of home flickering through his mind, of shared smoke and whiskey, a storm that wouldn't cease. ]

Man, I dunno. That seems like a stretch. The stuff you and I have done, said...we could be considered soulless, we sure as hell don't always sleep 'well' at night, but I'm pretty sure we've still got ours. He's probably just...in desperate need of a shrink.

[ There is a lot about their world that Cas has absolutely no desire to go back to, and the only thing he would want to go back for is already right in front of him. But... not all his memories of "home" are bad. If he had a Heaven, that memory would be there, with the rest of them.

This one... not so much. He sighs, looking at Dean, gratitude (love, really, always, even in frustration) battling with the more usual cocktail of euphoria and depression. ]

You came to me about him, Dean. And you're not the first one, but you're the one who knows him best. So, you tell me. Do you think Sam needs a shrink? Or do you think he's Sam sans Humanity?

[ Good question. Dean did bring this to Cas, sought him out, asked for his opinion.

He takes a moment to think on it, takes a long pull of the joint and holds it while he tries to work through his thoughts. When he lets his breath out it's slow, and he coughs a little at the end, holding it out to Cas. ]

I don't know. I just -- I don't know what to think, Cas.

Well, from what I can tell, he hasn't gone, uh... casting any Unforgivable Curses. So. Maybe you're right.

[ It'd be nice, wouldn't it? The image of a graveyard with the tombstones all blown back sits heavy in Cas' mind, but he doesn't bring it up. What harm could it do, waiting a little longer? Dean knows his brother best, and Cas trusts Dean to do what he needs to do. That memory, an invented one, of the Colt lying, recently fired, at Dean's side, and Lucifer standing over him is far worse than any mistake some other version of himself might've made.

Cas takes the joint back, fingers more than brushing over Dean's as he takes it, and his eyebrows lift and he's grinning even before he inhales again. ]

Maybe he's just like us.

[ Like Dean said. Not soulless (or whatever brand of empty Cas is these days), but sure as hell not sleeping through the night either. ]

I dunno. Let's keep an eye on him...something isn't right. Maybe...a divination spell?

[ Dean's lips twitch at the reference, curving up just a little. It always pleases him when Cas recognizes the things he says, and he moves in a little closer, coming to lean against the perch Cas has sat himself on. ]

Maybe he is. I know we're all a little broken. [ He reaches out, rests a hand on Cas' knee, squeezing a little. ] But at least I've got you.

[ A divination spell? Cas's lips push up and he hums thoughtfully at the idea. He does have magic blood he should try to put to use some time. If it means tracking down Sam's soul and fixing what is arguably his own mistake from another world, then surely the pollution to this one would be for a good cause...

Dean moves closer and even if Cas's mind wasn't already clouded with sweet smoke, he'd be thoroughly distracted away from spells all the same, just from the intoxication that is Dean Winchester's presence. Dean squeezes his thigh, says something painfully sweet, and Cas falls as thoroughly as he does ever time. ]

As if you could get rid of me if you tried.

[ This time, specifically, he falls just enough to drape his arms (the joint in his hand carefully held aloft) around Dean's neck to coax him closer, towards standing between his thighs. ]

Broken or soulless... whatever I am has always belonged to you.

[ It's an idea. Try to figure out what's going on, what went wrong, if Sam's soul really is here or...somewhere else.

But it's hard to think, with the hits he took settling in, the way Cas looks at him distractring him further, words pouring from his lips he never thought he'd say. ]

I don't wanna get rid of you, Cas.

[ He lets Cas touch him in ways he hasn't let anyone else in a long time, lets himself be coaxed closer, hands settling onto wood on either side of Cas, bracketing him in. ]

You gotta know that's mutual. No matter...no matter what we do to each other, I'll always come back to you. You're my home.

[ Those first words are more than Cas needs, and he revels in them, and in Dean's closeness, the same way he revels in the smell of weed and licorice taste of absinthe. This was worth the end of the world, he thinks, rebelliously selfish about it. He should care more about the universe they've left behind, but Dean is here, incredibly, in front of him, and they've suffered long enough, haven't they? If they can be happy here, together, then what's the harm in it? Cas grins, wildly pleased, and as Dean moves in closer between his thighs and says words so painfully sweet that they cut through the intoxication like a knife, Cas's grin smooths out to more comfortable, genuine adoration. ]

In that case, you've chosen an exceedingly shitty home.

[ Cas's hands slide up Dean's back to pull him in by his neck, close as they already are, so that he can nuzzle his nose to Dean's cheeks and breathe smoke-sweetened words quietly against his mouth. ]

But as long as you'll allow me, I'll always shelter you.

No, I've chosen exactly right.

[ They can never be close enough, not in Dean's opinion, and he shifts his hands to rest on Cas' thighs, thumbs smoothing at the material of his pants. He tips his head, watches him with a soft smile, pliant and easy in Cas' grasp. ]

I need you, Cas. I'll always need you.

Because I'm in love with you. [ The thought is thunderous, ringing loud in Dean's head, thrumming through his every vein, adoration ihis gaze. It's hard to tell if he spoke the words or thought them, but if Cas can parse through the hurricane of Dean's thoughts, he'll realize it was said out loud, vocalized, spoken just for Cas to hear. ]

[ They're sweet words that only get sweeter, and Cas smiles at Dean through lidded eyes, leaning back to push his thighs more firmly into Dean's palms, all while pulling him in closer, to look at, to gaze into so close that Dean's pretty eyes and splattering of freckles blur and pop like stars twinkling through a sunset. The feeling reminds Cas of Dean's soul, and it only burns brighter in the next moment when Dean says, and thinks, and feels directly into Cas's mind I'm in love with you. The words roar through Cas's mind like a giant crashing wave, crushing the beach of Cas's thoughts in a splash of shimmering salt water.

He'd dreamed this moment, dreamed those words and woke up wet-eyed at the painful reality of time and place at the end of the world. But here they are now. Somehow they've swum past that ending and wound up here, and Cas laughs against Dean's lips even as his eyes cloud with unshed tears.

Cas pulls Dean in and kisses him breathlessly, sure that that's all he'll be able to manage, but when the kiss breaks, he finds himself laughing again, gleeful, as tears drip down his cheeks. ]

I love you.

[ It's painful and cathartic at once to say it, and Cas doesn't allow the words to linger, but kisses Dean again and again, pressing against him, pulling him, breathing the words into Dean's mind instead, where it feels safe: Dean, I love you. I've loved you forever. I just want to be with you, forever, always. ]

INBOX #305682

un: 42069

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cw: druuug useeeee is mj even a drug anymore do i really need to warn for this

lmfao god idek

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