WHO: Endverse!Cas + Demon!Dean WHEN: August 3, 2014 WHERE: Cas's room WHAT: Cas is spectacularly high. Dean comes 'round to talk to him, and takes advantage of his vulnerable emotions to encourage him to move out. (Because Dean is a demon, and he's got an agenda.)
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Out of what seemed like respect, Dean had avoided Cas most of the day. But later at night, after Cas had the chance to butt heads with a particularly crabby vampire, Dean made his way back home. He handily avoided Sam and Veronica with some strategic teleportation before he slipped into Cas's room, knocking on the door when he was halfway through it before closing it behind him.
"Hey, trouble."
Cas was, true to his word, spectacularly high.
He'd mixed up a cocktail of various pharmaceuticals, something that really shouldn't have been given to anyone, and it had him feeling like he was flying despite the fact that he was lying in bed. His extremities were tingling, he was seeing bright colors behind his eyes, and his mind was an expansive wasteland of blissful nothingness -- and that nothingness was full of everything.
And he was alone. He'd hoped to share his time tonight with someone, but everyone was interested in monogamy or seemed to view him like a cute little pet of a person to pat on the head.
He glanced over, rubbing at his face, and he smiled vaguely. "Look what the cat dragged in," he mumbled. "I wasn't lying when I said I'd punch you."
Dean raised his hands in surrender and slowly made his way over. "I won't duck. Consider me your punching bag. I think you've earned it."
Cas laughed, rolling over onto his side, away from Dean. "Cute. That's real cute," he muttered. "Stop being cute."
"No can do." Dean rested his hand on the bed, letting Cas feel the depression of his weight before lowering himself down to sit. "Come on, at least try to elbow me in the nose. I'm wide open, here."
Cas glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"
Dean grinned crookedly. "Yeah." He blinked, his eyes flicking black. "Kinda the territory these days."
"I'm too high to punch you," Cas breathed, reaching out and patting Dean's chest. "I don't have it in me to swing. But I hate you. What you did… I would've died for you, anyway. Thought you wouldn't lie to me."
"Your boyfriend was kind of a bitch." Dean hooked his fingers into the front of Cas's shirt and dragged him forward to sit up. He deliberately let the darkness in his eyes flick back out, slowly enough that Cas could really see it. "I wanted to tell you when I was there, and he knocked me out before I got to you."
Cas sat up straight. Dean was able to pull him around like a ragdoll, and Cas offered up no resistance. "You knew?" Dean wanted to save him, and the other Dean had actively made sure that he didn't. That dick. "Well." He laughed bitterly, glancing away. "It's nice that you tried."
"I figured it out." Dean's hand lingered, the backs of his fingers trailing down Cas's chest. "Hey, at least you're stuck here with the hot one. At least I got you laughing."
Cas's smile faded, and he glanced up at Dean. The moment was silent, comfortable but thick with tension. This was the point where Dean would usually get closer, when Cas would opt to crawl over him and soothe him after a long day. "I miss you," he said after a moment. "You know? I miss you."
"...Yeah." Dean sighed and let his hand drop to rest on Cas's knee instead. It was more vulnerable than Cas had seen him since they showed up. "I miss you, too. You are a stupid son of a bitch back home, but… so am I." He squeezed like he needed the comfort himself.
Cas's attention drifted down to Dean's hand. "You ever think that maybe…" He shrugged. His head still wasn't clear, he still felt like he was floating, and he was only half involved in the conversation. His other half was flying on some other cosmic plane. "We could let go of our other selves? And just be us? I'm still me, you're still you, we're all just manifestations of the same idea."
Dean seemed to think it over, idly running his thumb over the fabric of Cas's jeans. Eventually, he said, "I gotta get out of here. I've got the cash from the other car. I was planning on just leaving in the morning. I can't stay here with Sammy and the cheerleader." He glanced up, leaning forward just enough to make eye contact with Cas. "I'd rather have you with me, my 'idea' or not."
Cas blinked, shifting a little. "You don't want to stay with Sam?"
"Have you seen Sam lately?" Dean rolled his eyes. "You know how I feel about that dumb kid, but it's a friggin' PBS special in here. Now he's a cop and he'll be riding us to keep him out of trouble, anyway. He's got this happy life now, the last thing he needs is a demon crashing on his couch and bitching about all the chick shows on Netflix."
It was true, really. Sam had a respectable life, living with his respectable girlfriend, and Cas and Dean were nothing but trouble. Cas already felt like he grated on Sam's patience. "This was never meant to be permanent," he said after a moment. "We'd be doing them a favor if we left, like we should have, months ago."
"I used to wonder if it would have been better back home if it was just you and me," Dean said thoughtfully, briefly scrunching his nose. "Let Sammy quit like he keeps wanting to, have it just be us on the road." They were together so rarely, but the few times they'd been able to drive together had been the best, hadn't they? He was touching on good memories, letting the moment supply its own pathos.
Cas watched Dean carefully. "Where I come from, it was just you and me," he said. "Going after Sam, giving up on trying to save him because it was too late. We had other people, but … it was us." He had no idea if what Dean was saying was true, and it nagged at him a little: "Do you think Sam's pretending to want me here?"
"Sam? Nah, he's not that good at lying." Dean shrugged. "But he's tolerating us. We both know that."
Cas did know that. He knew that he tried Sam's patience, knew that Sam didn't want him doing drugs or bringing strangers over. Sam cared about him, and so did Veronica -- he knew that -- but that didn't mean that they wanted him to live there. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. We don't exactly have compatible lifestyles, do we, now." He sighed heavily, slumping forward to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. "I'm seeing rainbows, baby."
Dean let him, even shifting a little so that Cas could get comfortable. "You're flyin'. Now's about the time you should be passing out. We can talk moving when you're seeing fewer pink elephants."
"Mm." Cas snuggled up against him, sighing heavily. He missed fitting himself against Dean's body. "Stay with me. I don't want to punch you."
He was quiet for a few long moments, as if he needed to put some serious thought into it before he finally agreed, "What the hell. Sure."
Cas nuzzled him and kissed his shoulder. "Mm-hmm." And then he said nothing, because he was floating and out of it, and essentially barely conscious.
Dean wrapped an arm around Cas and laid a hand on his back. Cas didn't need the comfort with how gone he was, and probably didn't notice when Dean eased him back down onto the bed.