[ dean only hums a quiet response to that, not really caring if it's true. he's the one who has been pushing cas away for the better part of their stay here, has told him to just... leave, that he doesn't need to follow dean anymore, there is no need to be loyal after what he'd done to everyone back home for the sake of a mission. he's tired of doing that though -- or maybe it's just the alcohol whispering so -- so for now he doesn't bother.
they're here, like this, there's no need to ruin it.
dean faintly feels the pressure of fingers over his forehead, a phantom reminder of what had once been. not that he needs any angel mojo to guide sleep to him tonight, the darkness is quick to devour his thoughts either way, and soon enough he's slipping away into sleep, breath evening out without problem, the night for once embraced without tension or paranoia. it's good like this, the surface of the bed soft, cas' body warm-- it's easy for once, falling asleep.
he dreams of what he always does; sam standing over his, perfectly white shoe pressing down onto his neck, pressure building, building, building... the difference this time is the location -- zelien -- and some feet away is another body; twisted in an awkward, unnatural angle, broken and bleeding-- dead. he doesn't need details to know it's cas.
it'll all happen again because your brother wants it to.
he doesn't know what the tremendous pressure in his chest is, or how he keeps the scream that he feels clogging up his throat from coming out--
when the first urge to wake up tugs at his consciousness, dean doesn't attempt to sleep longer. his head is throbbing, the inside of his mouth tasting like death and everything aches from the night spent in a too-small bed with another body. how much he might have moved goes ignored as he shifts slightly, groaning as the sensations begin to slam his senses.
fuck hangovers, fuck mornings, fuck whatever bed this is.
yup
they're here, like this, there's no need to ruin it.
dean faintly feels the pressure of fingers over his forehead, a phantom reminder of what had once been. not that he needs any angel mojo to guide sleep to him tonight, the darkness is quick to devour his thoughts either way, and soon enough he's slipping away into sleep, breath evening out without problem, the night for once embraced without tension or paranoia. it's good like this, the surface of the bed soft, cas' body warm-- it's easy for once, falling asleep.
he dreams of what he always does; sam standing over his, perfectly white shoe pressing down onto his neck, pressure building, building, building... the difference this time is the location -- zelien -- and some feet away is another body; twisted in an awkward, unnatural angle, broken and bleeding-- dead. he doesn't need details to know it's cas.
it'll all happen again because your brother wants it to.
he doesn't know what the tremendous pressure in his chest is, or how he keeps the scream that he feels clogging up his throat from coming out--
when the first urge to wake up tugs at his consciousness, dean doesn't attempt to sleep longer. his head is throbbing, the inside of his mouth tasting like death and everything aches from the night spent in a too-small bed with another body. how much he might have moved goes ignored as he shifts slightly, groaning as the sensations begin to slam his senses.
fuck hangovers, fuck mornings, fuck whatever bed this is.
and fuck last night. ]