Castiel always had too much heart (scorchedwings) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2017-12-02 23:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | castiel, dean winchester |
Who: Castiel and Dean Winchester
What: Dean catches Cas standing guard; AKA Cas the snugglecreeper
When: the wee hours of the morning, Saturday December 2nd
Where: Dean's room
Status: Closed, Ongoing
Warnings: Low. Cas's issues. Vaguely creepering? SNUGGLES.
The tension and violence in the air around Preya whispered and tugged at all the wrong things in Castiel's memory. Flashes of black oily malevolent things in the back of his mind, dripping from his head like tears. A small, sick part of him missed that rush of power, that feeling of god-like strength, he could do anything, put a stop to it all, take command - but there was no power. There never should have been that power. The would-be god was dead; he'd drowned in a river blackened with his mistakes. He was only Castiel, small and low and he was never going to hurt anyone anymore if he could help it. He could not undo what he’d done, but he could prevent it from happening ever again. He would not get involved, he couldn’t bring more destruction back on the world.
He just needed to find his focus elsewhere. He'd lost a great deal of time wandering the Forest in Everdale, where the soft sounds of the wind in the trees combined with the traces of soft music directed his way by Duma. Many of his friends had offered to play games with him, and placing all his attention on the reassuring step-by-step rules and the simple, regimented interactions helped too. He liked people, when they weren’t letting anger and cruelty guide them.
Dean helped him the best of all, though perhaps that was to be expected; being around Dean usually did comfort him. He’d let Castiel borrow his headphones and played music for him. When Cas closed his eyes, he could almost shut out all the other noise in his head and let the music take over. It wasn’t so much about the music itself – it more helped because, in the guitar chords and drumbeats and lyrics, he could hear Dean, almost as much as he could feel Dean in the lines of the Impala and the rumble of her engine. These were Dean’s things, and Dean was safety. Dean was home. He didn't want to fight, but he did want to protect his home as best he could.
It was late enough that most of Preya was quiet, though he knew the trouble that had been spilling over the past week was still only simmering. Castiel was watching over Dean now. Or, more just watching him, really. Dean was asleep, sprawled on his belly with his face mashed into the pillow, which was exceedingly endearing for some reason. Cas had carefully tugged the blankets back over him when he'd arrived fresh from the forest, but he’d hesitated to climb in with him. Not that he didn't want to, but... would Dean be comfortable with it? What if he preferred to sleep alone tonight? What if Castiel was overstepping his welcome? ...What if Castiel was overstepping, regardless of his welcome?
He was still contemplating the things he’d talked about with Gabriel and Duma with uncertainty. Castiel wouldn't even know where to start, beyond simply being more open with Dean, and the vaguest notions of more physical contact. That shouldn't be something he longed for. Dean was his friend, and it could (possibly) be safe enough in Preya for the hunter to live peacefully, and for Cas to avoid a fight that he could not be a part of. That should be enough. The thought of allowing himself actual happiness was... overwhelming. He could content himself with just this...