indecadence | [ic contact]

[ He doesn't want to be the voice of reason here. In fact, if anything, he wants to step into Dean's personal space and snatch that bottle away from him so he can drink too. He'd been spending a lot of his free time getting high, but that's only good for so much, more for reminiscing than numbing whatever travesty of the week it happened to be.

Castiel is so nonplussed at that smirk, rolling his eyes a little. ]

Alone? [ Call him skeptical. Besides, there's no one with him, and Dean had been banging on his door. ] Where did you get that?

[ So much for not babying him. He gets close enough to lean in and tries to snag the bottle. ]

[ as if dean would have expected babying from cas. please.

he makes no effort to keep the bottle from cas, lets him have it just like that. it'll be better with cas drunk, too-- a thing dean doesn't often seek out. at the question he pauses, gives the bottle a long look and then shrugs with one shoulder. ]

No idea.

[ could be rat poison for all he cares. ]

Where were you?

[ The impassiveness he'd remarkably kept in check before slips away into something of a frown at that comment, at the general lack of normal behavior from him. All of this leaves him with no basis for anything, why Dean's this drunk and what he'd been doing seeking him out. The last time they'd drank together-- Well, those are not the best memories for comparison, and Castiel takes a second to lift the bottle up to smell its contents.

Definitely alcohol, at least. Definitely something strong. He idly takes a sip as he watches him. ]

Nowhere. [ Because it's not Dean's business where he'd been. Castiel doesn't know where they stand, even after their last conversation. It makes him wary. ] Let's talk inside.

[ And get him on a more solid surface than his own two legs. He pushes the bottle back into his hand and tries to go for the door, forcing himself closer to the other man for that purpose. Whether or not they actually make it there is another topic entirely. ]

No.

[ nope, sorry, he's pushing off from the wall, one hand going to grab cas by the arm in an attempt to turn him right around. he's drunk, sure, but he still has somewhat of a reason for this... even if it's just seeking out company for what he's curious about, and an attempt to get sam off his mind. if he wasn't drunk, he might be doing this solo. ]

There's-- I saw something outside. You should come check it out with me-- tell me I'm not going crazy, and all. Or crazier-- [ he huffs a strained laugh. ] --than normal.

[ but see, he could have sworn he'd seen reality break outside, a rip of some sort, a window into another place. there and gone again in an instant, enough to leave him wondering if he'd just been hallucinating thanks to the bottle. ]

[ He jerks just out of reach from the hand that tries to grab onto him, suddenly needing a steady distance between them. This is just bordering on strange, stranger now that Dean's talking about something outside, and Castiel, for all that he likes to pay attention to details, hadn't noticed anything abnormal walking back inside the dorms. ]

You're not crazy, Dean. [ Not as crazy as some, but he doesn't add that. Instead, he narrows his eyes at him. ] Tell me what you saw.

[ No way is he making this easier for either of them. He refuses to go unless he absolutely has to, and even that, at this point, is stretching it. By the end of this, he might take the bottle back from him and do something he'd regret later. Always later.

He looks at him and waits for an answer. ]

[ when cas manages to avoid the grab, dean pauses before taking a single step closer. why? whoever the fuck even knows. it's interesting too, that cas would need this space, when he's always been one to stand too close, linger for too long and just generally frustrate dean in every which way possible. ]

No.

[ again, rougher this time, more final. ]

I wanna show you, so come on.

[ you just try and resist him one more time. ]

[ His eyebrows immediately go up at that--the step he takes, the way he pushes just a little closer. He must really be drunk, and even if he's trying to find some reason to really resist, he doesn't think he can for much longer. ]

Why? [ His mood doesn't help that he's just pushing Dean to egg him on now. ] Tell me, and I'll decide if it's worth looking into.

[ Granted, it probably is, but he has to have this. He wants it to be on his terms and not Dean's. Castiel wants to be past that part of their relationship now. ]

[ anger has always snapped so easily within him.

dean listens to about tell me, and i'll decide before those few steps are taken as well, the movement fast and fluid for someone who is without a doubt drunk. he aims to slam cas right against the dirty wall of the hallway, easily grasps him by the shoulder, forearm pressing over cas' collar. the dust flies off like smoke from the wall, lifting with the thud.

and dean gets right in cas' face a moment later. ]

What's wrong with you, huh?

[ something's crawled up your ass and dean doesn't like it. he thought they were okay but clearly he's wrong. just like he is about everything and everyone lately. maybe cas is hiding something too, after all, it would only make sense that those closest to him are all scheming, all going behind his back, fooling him with words of things getting better--

god he could break something right now, the bottle still in his hand slowly but surely becoming a victim with the way he keeps adding pressure to it. ]

You hiding something too? Do I need to beat it outta you as well?

[ It's something he should have expected, but still, even after all these years, it catches him unaware.

Castiel doesn't fight it, the initial shove shocking his body into rigidity, and when he's slammed into the wall, there's nothing but the quiet grunt of air leaving his lungs rather forcibly. When his mind catches up, he's gripping at Dean's arm and pushing a hand against his chest. It's not hard enough to deter him, but it's there to indicate he doesn't need to get any closer. ]

Would that make you feel better? [ His tone implies sarcasm. So much sarcasm, and he's glaring. ] I'm not hiding anything.

[ And with that admission, he sags a little. It might be some stretching of the truth, but Dean doesn't need to know he'd gotten himself mixed up with a demon. That things weren't making sense, and that the angels were causing too much trouble to solely contain between themselves anymore. Everything is backwards, but he's not going to say it.

He sighs almost quietly. ]

But I have every right to ask you the same. [ Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why are you so drunk? ]

[ no it would make him feel like shit.

dean glares at him for a moment, lets the bitter anger wash over him and drive his actions like it's so easy to let. sam would have said the same, would have kept up the lies if dean hadn't found out about them. and cas could be doing the same.

could be, would be, maybe, he doesn't know-- ]

How do I know I can trust you.

[ it's said eventually, with the same weariness that sags cas' body, he feels it weigh him down, too. this is all becoming too much, and he has no idea what to do anymore. he doesn't let up though, just sways there for a moment, the burn of alcohol numbing his mind despite his best efforts to concentrate.

at least the statement gets a huff of a laugh. ]

No, no-- but Sam's another story.

[ Something in those words snap hard and fast, and Castiel's staring pointblank at him, fingers twitching an inch before curling into the fabric of his shirt. ]

Are we having this conversation again? [ How many times will they have to suffer through it? ] I have given you everything. Your trust is the least you could give me.

[ The least. It's grit, teeth clenched but voice still relatively even as he speaks, and yet, with the mention of Sam's name, it causes him to pause. To hesitate, to stumble. He'd seen Sam not long ago, and things had been... okay. Yet, that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Whatever secrets the Winchesters keep only continues to prove that statement true.

Some sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach, and he hates that he has to ask. ]

What has he done now?

[ maybe he just doesn't know how to trust anymore. he'd placed some faith in sam, had dug it up from somewhere only to find out about sam's dates with the devil. ]

Has a deal with Lucifer. Hangs out with him, is gettin' friendly with him but that's alright, 'cause he won't say yes, he--

[ he sucks in a breath, sound pained like he's finding out about it all over again. ]

He lied, he said-- it's all going just like last time, Cas, he'll end up right where I lost him.

[ the bottle falls then, shattering on the floor in tiny pieces of glass, the insides staining the floor. but dean doesn't budge, just lingers there without looking at cas anymore, eyes downcast somewhere else as he tries to get the words out. how he could have been so fucking stupid to believe sam, to ever let him out of his sight is beyond dean.

if anything, maybe it means he's meant to lose him no matter what. ]

[ He'd been expecting... something else. Something not so earth-moving, something that doesn't make his heart skip a beat or his breath to catch as his throat tightens. It's not the same as when their Sam had said yes, but it's close. These events that had led them to this road are so very close and intangibly wound together that it's so difficult to pull them apart now. It explains why Dean is here, why he's drunk. Why they're such a mess standing together in the hallway.

All Castiel can think are the words Lucifer had told him before he'd snapped his neck. You will always end up here. They would, they have, and it feels like someone has ripped part of him out of his chest.

Hope. Their hope. He struggles to find the words even as the sound of the bottle breaking jars him back into reality. ]

I-- [ No, no, no. He has to try. He has to say something. ] It's not going to be like last time. We have the advantage, Dean, and nothing can change that. We know.

[ How, when, why. All of it. Their experiences simply do not mean anything, and they can fix this before Sam does something worse than making a deal with the devil. It burns through him, all that anger because he doesn't want what they have sacrificed to mean absolutely nothing or be forgotten. Castiel slides his hand from Dean's arm to his wrist. ]

This is why we're here, and this is why we trust each other. [ God knows they couldn't count on their counterparts to do anything. ] We will make it right this time.

[ it should be comforting, what castiel says. instead, dean just makes a low sound, not agreeing because it's not that simple, not at all. if sam is choosing lucifer over him, in any way, then that's it. they've lost him-- are losing him, just like they had back home all those years ago.

and dean feels like he has no one else to blame except himself. ]

How--

[ alcohol blinds his mind, makes everything miserable and muddy now that he's letting it. there's no changing anything this time, even if they do know how it can all go down. no, this time it's just them watching it all unfold the same, helplessly losing sam all over again.

dean leans closer then, rests his forehead on cas' shoulder and sucks in another breath, stance unsteady even where he still has cas against the wall. it's about as close to a hug as he's been to the other man in years which is why it only lasts a beat or two-- right until dean's pushing away, taking steps back and turning. ]

Whatever. We're done here.

[ or would be if dean didn't stumble with his next step, whoops. ]

[ Their proximity and the pressure of Dean's forehead to his shoulder catches him a little unaware, stunned to silence as he waits for something. Castiel waits for the ball to drop because it always does. No matter the time or place, he's left with this gaping hole that neither of them can properly fill because their friendship teeters in such a precarious direction. On again, off. Not quite together but so touched that everything affects them one way or the other.

He lifts his hand, hovering there over the expanse of Dean's back as if he's going to give in and hug him. He doesn't remember the last time they'd been so casual. Drinking isn't the same. Speaking isn't either.

But then Dean is shoving away, making real what he'd been waiting for. The gap only continues to grow, and he's helpless to stop it. Whatever he says is always the wrong thing. Whatever he does doesn't seem to matter anymore. It's why he reaches out and grabs him tight by the arm--maybe to keep him from falling, maybe just because he's a little hurt by everything that's happened. He doesn't need Dean to fuel it, but he doesn't need him to just turn his back on him again. ]

No we're not. [ Still holding him, he turns to the door and gets it open. ] Inside. Now.

[ He's not letting him leave like this. Not until they can sort some things out, and whatever original reason Dean had come to him for can wait. ]

[ dean doesn't even realize cas has a hold on him until he stops him from stumbling. it leaves dean blinking back at cas, weariness written into his face as he looks form cas to where the other man's hand is latched onto his arm. normally, that might get cas into a whole heap of trouble, but today dean just grumbles something foul under his breath, shards of broken glass cracking under his boots.

it's only at the command to go inside that dean starts protesting. ]

Let go of me...

[ he has business to attend to!! like killing lucifer and beating sam and killing himself and looking at ripples.

he does get to about as far as the door, stands there in the frame and just latches a hand onto the side like he's not feeling too hot for a minute. a groan later, and he's looking at cas, eyes unfocused and pained. ]

I don't want to shoot him again.

[ as sam, as lucifer. he doesn't even want to try. ]

[ He should hold some sympathy for him, but Castiel can't be bothered with that right now. He takes in his entire demeanor and feels his resolve for all of this strengthen. If Dean is feeling low, he will pick him up. One thing that can be said about being here is that it's changed his perspective, the outcomes of the things around him, and he isn't going to allow Dean the luxury of slipping away from him again. He is a mover, and Castiel is going to make certain he stays on that path no matter how hard he has to push. No matter what it takes, he's going to make it so.

His grip doesn't lessen, fingers curling into the muscle he feels beneath those layers. ]

You're not going to. It won't happen like before.

[ His certainty is astounding, unbreakable, and Castiel pushes him a little, determined to keep wherever this conversation is going as private as possible. What they have to say can be said in his room, away from everyone else. That, and he can get Dean into his bed before he passes out on the floor. He frowns at him, eyes leveling with his and trying to see through all the misery that blatantly stares back. For someone who tries so hard not to feel, it burns deep in him. ]

Come on. [ And there's the gentleness now, taking a step back to urge him inside. He doesn't let go though. If anything, his hold grows firmer. ]

[ but cas what if he wants to have this conversation right here!!!

the certainty in cas' voice is unexpected, a mirror of sam's words from before. he'd believed him, and wants to believe cas now but he can't keep going through this... betrayal that people seem to favor when it comes to him. he might deserve it in some part, but it leaves him tired and hopeless.

even the usual anger doesn't seem to save him this time.

he follows with the urging, eyes on the floor now as he steps inside. ]

You can't stop it. You're just...

[ you might have stood by him all this time, but you're just...you, cas. either way, dean looks ready to drop, the alcohol burning in his blood and dragging him down all the more, making every part of his grow heavier. he hasn't been this drunk in years, probably not since sam first said yes, when he died and dean lost him forever.

dean twists his arm just a little, hand wrapping around cas'. it's mostly for balance, to make their connection stronger, more firm, but also because... cas grounds him, gives him the proof he needs right now that this is real, at least. that he's there and despite all the bullshit, he won't leave. ]

I hate this place.

[ Everything in him wants to ask what. All this time, through the things that separate them, and he still yearns for Dean's approval. He still needs it, still wants to do the right thing even if the road they travel has been nothing but cruelty and suffering. It's a difficult existence when you've seen what makes the insides of a person and still can't fit them back together after they've shattered to pieces. Perhaps it's because he'd never been strong enough to do so in the first place; temptation and curiosity had been his downfall. Love. They may never agree or see eye-to-eye, but there is no doubt that that has always been there for Castiel. He wouldn't have stayed with him if it hadn't been.

He'd once told Dean that they were family, that they were friends and that he needed him. He does, and he might always, even when the last of what holds them to each other crumbles to dust.

Castiel feels himself giving in, sighing and taking hold of Dean's hand better. Tighter. He leads him through the short space between rooms and into his, arm going around him if he needs it. If he happens to stumble, he's simply there for support. He doesn't make a scene or accuse him of being an idiot--which he is, of that there is no doubt. And once they're inside, shut out from the world, he takes him to his bed and finally speaks. ]

I hate it too. [ If he's being honest. ] But there are some things that make it tolerable.

[ Like him and Evelynn and sometimes Sam. People he would have lost or never knew if it weren't for being here. ]

[ once in cas' room and by the bed, dean sits down mostly because his legs are very much in the mood to give out by now. he sits with a grunt, eyes still on the floor until a beat later he's looking at cas again. or glancing, more like, as if he's afraid he'll find something there that he doesn't like-- like pity or concern, anger or disappointment. something. ]

Could've fooled me.

[ but no, cas is right. sam, despite the pain he's causing dean right now, makes things better too. as does cas. everything else though... he wants to shut them all out. even jo, no matter how glad he is to see her again. she's not his jo, she doesn't understand him or where he comes from.

dean's hand trails from cas', drops down onto the bed next to him. he sways there for a minute, sitting on the bed with slumped shoulders. ]

At least I have you.

[ it's quiet, mumbled and barely audible, almost as if he hadn't meant it to be said out loud. and maybe he doesn't even realize that he does indeed say it. he's still not looking at cas, instead has his eyes fixed on his hand over the bed, flexing his fingers over the fabric of his blanket.

it feels nice and soft now, even if it's not really that great. ]

[ Castiel ignores those words, forcing back a sharp roll of his eyes so there's a passive look instead. He knows Dean is hurting, and that this, whatever it is, is his way of expressing it, lashing out without so much as thinking about it. For that, at least, there is no blame. They have their vices and their faults, and somehow, they are still here. They have still come this far. He realizes that they might never be as they'd been before, when he'd been an angel and Dean so righteous, but perhaps it could be better. If only they can work through these things without estranging themselves again.

For several seconds, he watches him. He's so drunk, and it's almost pathetic, pitying. Yet, he isn't going to give him that or judge him. Besides, what he says after causes him to come up short, thoughts falling away to one simple truth. Castiel hesitates and then presses forward to sit beside him on the bed, impossibly close so that their knees and thighs touch. He's never been overly concerned with personal space, and even now, especially now, it doesn't matter. Resting his forearms on his legs, he idly looks at his hands. ]

You have always had me, Dean.

[ It's equally soft, an intimate whisper that's just as good as a confession. It had been a promise Castiel had made--that he would be there, that he would never leave, that Dean would not suffer alone. ] I can't understand why it's taken you so long to see it.

[ And only then does he risk a glance at him, nerves suddenly drawn tight. Like he's exposed something that should never have been said. ]

[ this is probably not the best conversation to have while dean's drunk out of his mind....

but it definitely is the best time to have it.

dean doesn't move when cas sits next to him, when he presses the length of his leg against dean's, the warmth seeping from his body. it's...comforting, though he doesn't say it, and dean only gives him a short look for it, one that isn't apparently met by cas. right now all physical contact is strangely nice, and the realization hits him as something he seems to have forgotten somewhere along the way...

why has it taken him this long to see it? dean can't find the answer. it's somewhere buried underneath relentless pain over his past failing, under the self-hatred and ever-present anger he can't ever seem to shake completely. the answer is out of his grasp, so he can't offer it to cas.

instead he leans slightly on the other man, shoulder to shoulder, personal space not an issue for him today either. it's getting difficult to stay upright and cas is there, solid and warm. ]

I don't know why.

[ he almost sounds apologetic about it. and it prompts him to look at cas closer, turn his head and really look at him; no half-glances or such. ]

I should've seen it sooner.

[ He's not expecting an answer. He never expects anything, really, and even getting so much as that, the i don't know why is more than he'd ever hoped to get. Dean is so closed off, so hard to figure out when he's so fearless leader. But things are beginning to change, he supposes. They fight, they argue, but they speak. Castiel doesn't remember the last time he's touched pills either, and that has to count for something too. Right? All of this has to count for something.

He just isn't sure what.

Castiel sucks in a breath when Dean leans against him, clasping his fingers together and loosening them just as quick. Maybe he means to get a grip on his arm and ease him back upright, but it's not as if this has ever bothered him. Contact he generally likes anyway, now, and it's reminiscent of things before, when they could rely on each other and not think twice about it. Yet, Castiel has grown incredibly selfish through the years, and he can't stop himself from looking back or resting a hand on Dean's arm. His lips press thin before the words fall out. ]

Would it have changed things between us if you had?

[ Would they have still become like this? Ended up here? Would they be sitting here like this without an inch of space between them? Castiel doesn't blink, afraid he might miss the answer when it comes. ]

[ asking the hard questions now, are you.

dean doesn't know. he pretends to, but honestly in this place, this city, he doesn't know much. everything's been turned on its head, and it's left him lost for the most part. ]

Probably.

[ maybe he would have tried to find another way, but then again, maybe not. if anything, he'd like to think he wouldn't have sacrificed cas for a shot at the devil, but at the same time, he'd been so blinded by that need to kill lucifer it might have still killed their friendship. it's a lot of ifs and buts and maybes, all things cas has a right to ask even if dean wishes he wouldn't.

he sighs some then, another wave of fatigue hitting him. this is nice though, them like this, it leaves dean feeling like he can't move-- doesn't even want to. he could just about fall asleep like this for once, the normal paranoia and wariness that keeps him awake at nights dulled right then.

still, he ends up asking quietly; ]

Would you be happier if we were still like the other two?

[ He tries to hold the look as long as he can when that answer finally does come, but it sinks and spins out of control to the point he has to shift his eyes away and look at something else. Probably doesn't necessarily mean it would, and that's not enough of him. Castiel has found that uncertainties are a better friend than unknowns because it lends the power of hope. It gives them something to look to even when everything is so bleak, so out of focus. And it's this world too, how it messes with them and twists them in different directions. For a moment, they are impossibly close, and tomorrow-- Well, tomorrow is never enough.

Instead, he tries to focus on what he's asked and what the truth of it is. Sometimes he fools himself into thinking that erasing what has been done would make him happier. That if he woke up an angel again, filled to the brim with grace and knowing, it would change his outlook. Yet, there's so much he's traded for his place at Dean's side, and it's too much to decide whether or not he would have thrown it away to keep what he'd lost. ]

Maybe. [ It's the definite he settles on, just as quiet as he looks around the room and finally back at him. ] But we're not them. He isn't you, and I'm-- I like this.

[ Whatever this co-existence happens to be, whatever sort of place they've found themselves in. Besides, he hardly wants anything to do with his other self, and past Dean is this strange conundrum he hasn't decided whether to really like or hate. At least his Dean is familiar. At least he can guess what would happen if he were to press certain issues. ]

Nothing is ever going to be perfect - I think we've managed so far. [ Being not so perfect, the two of them. ] Is that what you would want? If you could change things, would you want to be like them?

[ It makes him nervous to ask, and unconsciously, his fingers dig just a fraction harder into Dean's arm. ]

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ugh i hate everything about these two

you love it just as much as i do

no!!!!!

stop being difficult!!!

never!!!!

fine then!!!!