[ It's true that they've had worse, far worse than this. Still, sometimes, the physical comfort doesn't matter if the emotional stability isn't there, and Castiel closes his eyes for a brief second to take it all in. Him and Dean and the circumstances that always seem to revolve around them. It could have been nice with only them and Sam. No demons, no angels or impending apocalypse they had to fix. Dean could finally rest, and they could start over from another point. Yet, nothing is ever so easy, and all of this is testament to that. The hurt and pain that they feel is some punishment they must live with--and forever, it seems.
So, the question he asks goes dead between them for a long while. He opens his eyes to stare at him, tracing the outline of his face in the dim light and wondering why this barrier would always remain between them. Hardly inches of space, and Castiel feels worlds apart anyhow, standing off in the distance and waiting. He's not the angel he'd been anymore, and that should even the odds. Shouldn't it? They should be equals in everything now. ]
No. I-- [ Short syllables, and they're gruff, too lost in uncertainties and possibilities he'd never really considered before. ] There is no one else.
[ Which isn't entirely a lie. He doesn't bring people back here or lay with them or whatever else Dean might think. It's something they don't talk about, his habits inconsequential in the scheme of things. Of course, there are countless others he's attracted to, but he highly doubts Dean is asking him that. Even if he is, Castiel would blame his drunken state on the choice of topic and try to steer clear of it as best he could. Yet, there's something lingering in his voice, an unspoken only you that sits in the back of his throat and lodges itself tight. He would never admit that to anyone; he hardly believes it himself.
The breath he gives is slow and oddly unsteady, and before he can catch himself, he lifts his hand to gently press two fingers to Dean's forehead in a motion that's both familiar and useless now.
you and me both. i think we need to find more cliffs together
So, the question he asks goes dead between them for a long while. He opens his eyes to stare at him, tracing the outline of his face in the dim light and wondering why this barrier would always remain between them. Hardly inches of space, and Castiel feels worlds apart anyhow, standing off in the distance and waiting. He's not the angel he'd been anymore, and that should even the odds. Shouldn't it? They should be equals in everything now. ]
No. I-- [ Short syllables, and they're gruff, too lost in uncertainties and possibilities he'd never really considered before. ] There is no one else.
[ Which isn't entirely a lie. He doesn't bring people back here or lay with them or whatever else Dean might think. It's something they don't talk about, his habits inconsequential in the scheme of things. Of course, there are countless others he's attracted to, but he highly doubts Dean is asking him that. Even if he is, Castiel would blame his drunken state on the choice of topic and try to steer clear of it as best he could. Yet, there's something lingering in his voice, an unspoken only you that sits in the back of his throat and lodges itself tight. He would never admit that to anyone; he hardly believes it himself.
The breath he gives is slow and oddly unsteady, and before he can catch himself, he lifts his hand to gently press two fingers to Dean's forehead in a motion that's both familiar and useless now.
sleep ]