[ There's so much worse that Castiel could've said than pointing out Dean's obvious fear of flying. His head tilts, birdlike, as he considers what part of that Dean's bothered by. Does he consider it a sign of weakness? Fear is a boon, for many. It keeps them safe. Keeps them alive. And Dean is one of the most brave, fearless men Castiel knows.
The accusation is also unexpected. ]
That's a poetic sentiment.
[ Nevertheless, Castiel drinks from his cup again, hesitates for a moment as he considers what to remove next, and ultimately shrugs out of his trench coat, folding it and setting it aside, with his tie neatly placed on top. ]
Never have I ever comforted a family member.
[ Despite having thousands of siblings, angels aren't particularly... warm. ]
But it's fine, it's kind of fun to see what Cas comes up with. Sort of. ]
What can I say, I've read Wordsworth.
[ Dean's a poetic guy.
(not really, but he isn't lying). ]
Really? [ That takes him a little by surprise, and as he toes off another shoe and takes his drink, he surveys Cas, because that seems abysmally lonely. ]
[ The most comforting Castiel's done has been to apologize after a fellow angel's death, although that's different enough from the comfort Dean extends to Sam and others on numerous occasions, so Castiel doesn't think it's close enough to the same thing that he would need to drink.
Castiel also has not, in fact, read Wordsworth. Oh, Dean. You and your modern pop culture references. Castiel ignores it, as he is wont to do with all of Dean's trivia that he doesn't understand. ]
How do you know that you don't have wings? They don't exist in this dimension.
[ Castiel asks, just to be a shit. Though he does also drink, and removes his blazer after, folding it and adding it to the pile. ]
[ Peacock wings would suit Dean, but Castiel was imagining gold filigree. Then again, who's to say he couldn't have both? Or more? Wings of fire, nurturing and destructive. Wings made out of cosmic dust and entire stars. He could have a thousand wings, enough to put every angel of God's creation to shame. Extravagance would suit him as well as modesty. Dean is wonderous.
Castiel is distracted. He swallows, looks at where Dean's hand smooths over his tie, and struggles to reclaim his place in the here and now, and their game. ]
Never have I ever...
[ Why is he only thinking about sex? Is it the memory of Dean's soul? The imagining of Dean's grace? The innocent but suggestive gesture of Dean's hand on his discarded clothing? Regardless of the reason, it's inappropriate. However, the longer Castiel delays, the more he can feel blood rushing upwards, coloring his neck and cheeks pink in an embarrassingly physical reaction. ]
I've never... undressed in front of anyone before.
[ It still borders on the edge of sex and general impropriety, but Castiel can't think of anything else. His mind is frustratingly blank of everything but Dean and sex, sex and Dean. ]
[ Gold filigree would be much more appropriate. Though Dean thinks they'd probably be black and ragged, to match his shining, shitty personality. ]
Well, we're working on that now, aren't we? [ Dean flashes Cas a cheeky wink as he takes a sip, fingers light over Cas' silk tie before moving it in favor of shrugging out of the plaid he'd had underneath his jacket. ]
Never have I ever watched the evolution of a planet.
[ There's nothing wrong with black and ragged wings, just saying.
Dean does, in fact, seem to be working on getting Castiel naked, or they're working on getting each other naked, and Castiel still doesn't entirely understand why beyond the vague concept of "entertainment." Having Dean wink at him about it doesn't help Castiel think any less about sex, either, or feel any less flushed, or any less embarrassed that he is flushed and thinking about sex with Dean.
Evolution is a dull concept in comparison. ]
Never have I ever danced.
[ There. That's a concept that's completely nonsexual, except in every species and culture which ties dancing to mating which... actually, is quite a lot of them, so maybe Castiel's mind is as far enough away from the idea of sex as he'd hoped.
He also completely forgets to drink or strip for a good long moment, before it hits him suddenly and he rushes to both sip his drink and slip off a shoe at the same time. ]
[ Cause it's fun, Cas. This is what two dudes do when the apocalypse is nigh, they drink and get naked together. Totally normal. ]
I can't say I dance well, but I've done it. [ He watches Cas with a little grin, waiting for him to take his shoe off before Dean obliges as well and peels out of his final layer, tossing his shirt into his messy pile beside Cas' nicely folded trench. He's gonna lose. ]
[ The really insane thing is that Castiel believes him. If Dean says this is what "dudes" do, then it must be. Just wait until it backfires and he brings this up to Bobby or Sam. ]
That's not true. I'm sure you're a wonderful dancer.
[ Castiel's never seen Dean dance, but he's seen Dean fight, and those two things are often linked in ballads and poems. ...Along with sex, which Castiel is forced to acknoledge he's still thinking about as Dean removes his shirt and exposes a great deal of bare, freckled skin. Castiel's breathing picks up to match the race of his heart, but he manages to keep his eyes, possibly awkwardly, looking pointedly away, to respect Dean's privacy.
His eyes narrow at the question. For someone afraid of flight, Dean seems to have quite an interest in space. Castiel takes another sip of his drink that does nothing to him, that tastes similar to water, the way nearly everything on Earth does, and then he removes his other shoe and sets is in a row beside the first. ]
Earth is by far the most interesting planet in this galaxy, in case you're wondering.
[ Castiel is still looking at the motel room wallpaper as he thinks of something else he hasn't done. It's easy, really. Compared to humans (compared to Dean), there is so much angels can't experience. ]
[ Dean, for his part, appears to be pretty relaxed in his chair, legs splayed wide, casual, a little wicked as he flashes a grin in Cas' direction. ]
Maybe we'll have to try a waltz sometime.
[ Sometimes, Cas, Dean thinks you're probably an alien. ]
I was wondering, thanks for confirming. [ Cas' 'never have I ever', though, that has Dean hesitate because, well.
He hasn't. Not until Cas, and he isn't sure about labeling that, because he doesn't know what love feels like because up until now he hasn't been in love, not properly; he thought maybe he'd loved Cassie and as a result of that he spilled his guts and told her what he did, but that wasn't really love, it was just lust, wasn't it, it didn't even last more than two months, and it's all very circular and it's easier to just say, ha, nope because that's the truth. Ish.
[ The idea of dancing with Dean, a waltz or otherwise, sends a new inappropriate flush of heat through Castiel, and he stares that much more intently at the wall. He answers quietly, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking in distraction, even though it isn't his turn. ]
I'd like that.
[ He's fully expecting Dean to remove another piece of clothing and to avoid looking at him for the duration of that game, but Dean's answer surprises him, and Castiel is tricked into looking directly at Dean, confidently sprawled in his chair as he is. Castiel frowns. ]
I don't understand. You've...
[ How many times has Dean bragged about his conquests, made lewd suggestions, spoken about past relationships? It wasn't a stretch to assume he'd loved someone, likely many people, before. Castiel's curiosity wins out of his embarrassment, and he finds himself asking directly. ]
You've been involved with many people in your life, intimately. But you never loved any of them?
[ He knows about prostitutes, obviously. He's read quite a few issues of Playboy now. It's not the fact that Dean's had casual sex that surprises him. Dean is human. More than that, he's incredibly caring. How is it possible he's never felt love for someone? And, if that's the case, is Castiel confused? Maybe what he's feeling for Dean isn't love at all, but some other... something. Is this really what infatuation feels like? He's startled by the idea. ]
[ Dean shrugs, swirls his drink in his hand, dropping his eyes to study the liquid as it moves in the glass. Dean has lost count of the people he's slept with at this point, each encounter bleeding into the next, a weak placebo for what he really craves deep down but knows he can't have. ]
No. I guess I came close once or twice, but Cas, c'mon. You know the kind of life I live. I'd just end up getting someone killed, or worse. [ And there really is such a thing as worse in this instance - Dean knows it, intimately.
And furthermore, Dean doesn't really think he's worthy of anyone's love. ]
[ Dean doesn't think he's worthy of love. He's wrong, of course, but Castiel still doesn't understand how that explains it. Everything he's ever read, and seen about love, from the perspective of humans... ]
"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark."
[ Castiel stares at Dean, even after he's finished his bland and toneless recitation, as if looking through him, to the radiant kindness and personification of love that is Dean's soul, might explain it. It doesn't. It only leaves Castiel with the same longing, the same feeling of distance, and the same questions. ]
How do you stop yourself from falling in love with someone?
The revelation is almost as surprising as Dean recognizing it, and letting slip that he's read love sonnets. Way to go you ignorant sap. ]
Great question. Don't get too close, for one thing. All those one nighters were just...one night. Don't let emotions get in the way, don't get to know them. It's easy enough, since Sammy and I are constantly on the move. [ He doesn't have time to get to know anyone.
He pauses, picks up his drink, winks at Cas with a smirk. ]
[ He doesn't. If the answer is don't get close to someone, abandon and leave them, then Cas believes Dean's method of avoiding love is flawed. Also, what is Castiel to do? He won't abandon Dean. He can't imagine a fate more miserable.
And booze won't help him, though Castiel does drink anyhow, still frowning over his glass. Dean winking at him, still gloriously shirtless doesn't help, either. "Then sigh not so, but let them go, and be you blithe and bonny." Easier said than done, perhaps. ]
It's your turn in the game still, Dean.
[ Please give him a distraction besides your beautiful naked chest, you absolute tease. ]
Don't get too close. All those one nighters were just...one night. Don't let emotions get in the way.
Dean has literally done all of these things - immediately company included.
But that's different, right? Cas and Sam, that's a different kind of love. He's not in love with his brother, and he's not...in love with Cas.
Right?
He wavers a little, dissecting the dilemma in his head far more than necessary, lost in his thoughts until he's pulled out when Cas reminds him it's his turn. ]
Oh, yeah -- sorry. Uh, never have I ever sang a hymn. [ His brother was the churchy one, and when Dean sings, it's mullet rock or the Beatles, not I am the Bread of Life. ]
[ Castiel has, in fact, sung hymns. Not so much the ones Dean is thinking of, but the holiest praise of God on high in a non-verbal language is a hymn by its basest definition, and so Castiel take another sip of his drink, then sets the glass down and begins unbuttoning his shirt. He still has his socks on, but he's following Dean's example, so, he opens his shirt slowly, not with intention, but with distraction.
He did want a distraction, after all, and Dean's given him one, but it's still not enough. Castiel's thoughts are still firmly set on love, and sex, and Dean, and combinations of all three. It's frustrating. ]
Seraphim were created by God to "carry out His will with fiery passion, threefold." Personally, I always preferred the "fiery passion" that entailed purification of sin from sinners rather than the kind that involved singing His praises. Or the kind that involved smiting in His name.
[ Castiel rolls his shoulders out of his shirt, folds it thoughtfully, and adds it to the growing pile. ]
Never have I ever played a game like this before.
[ What happens once they're both sitting here, naked? Do they simply dress themselves again, or...? Are they supposed to stop before they get to that point? Castiel's drink is nearly empty. What happens once it's gone? He still has so many questions and so very few answers.
...Still. It's nice to spend time to Dean. It's nice to feel as if Dean is comfortable enough to play this sort of game with him. It's nice to drink with Dean and share stories. Maybe that's the point of the game. ]
Yeah, your fiery passion blows out glass and sets car alarms off.
[ Yeah, you seem like a choir boy, Cas.
Then again, the way he unbuttons his shirt slowly, as if teasing, has Dean shifting uncomfortably in his chair, surprised at his reaction to what Cas is doing. He's unable to look away, eyes dropping with every button Cas undoes, drinking in all of the skin he's suddenly been gifted with viewing.
This might've been a bad idea. ]
Really? Angels don't play war games or anything? [ He's still got socks on too, so he'll pull one of those off, take a sip, reach for the bottle to refill both of their glasses.
[ Well. Dean's not wrong. That was Castiel's fiery passion as he tried desperately to talk to Dean and explain himself. He was so excited by the idea, and so disappointed when a vessel was required. When Dean's in Heaven, maybe they'll be able to finally have that conversation. It's not a day Castiel is eagerly awaiting, but he can't say he isn't excited by the idea of speaking to Dean without the necessity of human vocal chords.
And that answers that. Castiel holds his glass out while it's refilled, trying to concentrate on the lovely way the liquid strikes the glass rather than the sinuous pull of Dean's bicep beneath the scar he'd placed there: that claiming mark of possession, of ownership by a servant of Heaven, of victory against Hell. The fingerprints of his grace, burned into Dean's skin.
Feeling suddenly dry-mouthed, Castiel takes a sip of his drink as soon as Dean is finished refilling it, which is somewhat contradictory to what he says (and against the rules of the game), but Castiel doesn't seem particularly bothered by either. ]
We played games, occasionally. Not like this, though. Angels have no use for alcoholic beverages. Or clothing, except when we're occupying human vessels, which is rare, generally.
Wow. Sounds like you guys are a barrel of laughs up there.
[ No booze, no strip games. Yikes.
Dean seems pretty comfortable being half naked in front of Cas, but it's probably because he's had a lot of whiskey, and it's...Cas. It seems self-explanatory, somehow. ]
Never have I ever seen the pyramids. [ He's not sure Cas has but a lot of biblical shit happened there so chances are good. ]
Some of the others would often engage in carousing. Where they found humor, though, I preferred to seek out places of peace.
[ Was Cas the nerd of the family? Yes. He just didn't fit in. Uriel's sense of humor and Cas's were... very different. He infinitely prefers Dean's company even to his closest friends from his garrison, as guilty as he would be to admit it. He sips from his drink, sets it aside and removes both his socks, as Dean had. ]
The pyramids of Giza haven't always been a peaceful place, but they are now. I could take you there, if you'd like to see them.
[ He would like to see them, actually. It would be pretty fascinating, he's never really been out of the country, and there's something...mythical about them, just how old they are, how they correspond to the constellations. ]
Yeah, we should do that sometime. [ Maybe. Maybe. ] But man, Cas, every time you zap me someplace it messes up my insides.
[ Castiel has always felt apart from his heavenly family in ways he's never fully been able to categorize. It's in subtle differences between him and them, and he's always attributed it to him just being... who he is. Different. And that's fine. It's always been fine, and he wouldn't change his very long history with the other angels at all.
Now that he's met Dean, though he wonders. He and Dean are very different, of course, but... they seem to share ideals. Dean appreciates the beauty of the Earth and its people in the same way Castiel does. ...Which is to say, not at all like the other angels. Castiel would like to show Dean more of the world and all of the places he's found beautiful. He thinks Dean would find them beautiful, as well. He wants to see the bright light in Dean's eyes as he observes the pyramids of Cairo, or the tulip fields of Holland, or the rice fields of Bali, or a thousand other places. To take would require flying, though, which Dean is obviously still uncomfortable with, despite his agreement. Castiel smiles softly. ]
I could take you in a dream instead, if you'd allow me.
Cas, you're probably the only one I'd let inside my head.
[ By choice, he means, because others have certainly gotten in uninvited. ]
Hell, I'd let you use me as a vessel if you needed to. But if I'm gonna see Egypt, then I'm gonna see it, know what I mean? I'd have to suck it up and let you fly me on this one.
[ The romanticism of flying Dean to locations he's never seen falls by the wayside compared to his other confessions. Castiel's eyes go wide and his breath stops. Maybe his heart stops also; honestly, he isn't paying attention to any part of his vessel at the moment. His grace crackles beyond human perception, and the feathers of his wings fluff out. What Dean's offering is... extremely intimate. Castiel wonders for a moment if Dean even understands the implications to what he's said, then realizes that of course Dean, more than anyone, knows the gravity of consenting to be an angel's vessel. The damage he would inflict on Dean's body is nothing compared to that of an archangel, but the loss of control and the surrendering of will is the same. That Dean knows that and offers it anyway, even as a hypothetical is... profound. Castiel is awed. ]
Thank you, Dean. Though I'm sure that it would never come to that.
[ Using Dean as a vessel, he means. Castiel would do everything he could, even die, to prevent endangering Dean in that way, even as much as the idea excites a dangerously possessive side of him. His eyes wander down Dean's bare skin, to his left shoulder where that mark remains: Castiel's claim of Dean's body for the restitution of his soul. Gradually, his eyes lift back to Dean's, though the intensity there remains. ]
We'll fly, then. When you're ready.
[ Castiel has forgotten the game again but this discussion with Dean is much more exciting to Castiel than exposing skin that isn't truly his or imbibing alcohol in such small amounts that his grace is unaffected. ]
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The accusation is also unexpected. ]
That's a poetic sentiment.
[ Nevertheless, Castiel drinks from his cup again, hesitates for a moment as he considers what to remove next, and ultimately shrugs out of his trench coat, folding it and setting it aside, with his tie neatly placed on top. ]
Never have I ever comforted a family member.
[ Despite having thousands of siblings, angels aren't particularly... warm. ]
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But it's fine, it's kind of fun to see what Cas comes up with. Sort of. ]
What can I say, I've read Wordsworth.
[ Dean's a poetic guy.
(not really, but he isn't lying). ]
Really? [ That takes him a little by surprise, and as he toes off another shoe and takes his drink, he surveys Cas, because that seems abysmally lonely. ]
Never have I ever had wings.
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[ The most comforting Castiel's done has been to apologize after a fellow angel's death, although that's different enough from the comfort Dean extends to Sam and others on numerous occasions, so Castiel doesn't think it's close enough to the same thing that he would need to drink.
Castiel also has not, in fact, read Wordsworth. Oh, Dean. You and your modern pop culture references. Castiel ignores it, as he is wont to do with all of Dean's trivia that he doesn't understand. ]
How do you know that you don't have wings? They don't exist in this dimension.
[ Castiel asks, just to be a shit. Though he does also drink, and removes his blazer after, folding it and adding it to the pile. ]
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[ It's funny to think of himself with wings, big...fluffy peacock things. Probably not at all angelic. ]
Your turn. [ He pats Cas' pile, smoothing his fingers over the material of the clothes. ]
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Castiel is distracted. He swallows, looks at where Dean's hand smooths over his tie, and struggles to reclaim his place in the here and now, and their game. ]
Never have I ever...
[ Why is he only thinking about sex? Is it the memory of Dean's soul? The imagining of Dean's grace? The innocent but suggestive gesture of Dean's hand on his discarded clothing? Regardless of the reason, it's inappropriate. However, the longer Castiel delays, the more he can feel blood rushing upwards, coloring his neck and cheeks pink in an embarrassingly physical reaction. ]
I've never... undressed in front of anyone before.
[ It still borders on the edge of sex and general impropriety, but Castiel can't think of anything else. His mind is frustratingly blank of everything but Dean and sex, sex and Dean. ]
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Well, we're working on that now, aren't we? [ Dean flashes Cas a cheeky wink as he takes a sip, fingers light over Cas' silk tie before moving it in favor of shrugging out of the plaid he'd had underneath his jacket. ]
Never have I ever watched the evolution of a planet.
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Dean does, in fact, seem to be working on getting Castiel naked, or they're working on getting each other naked, and Castiel still doesn't entirely understand why beyond the vague concept of "entertainment." Having Dean wink at him about it doesn't help Castiel think any less about sex, either, or feel any less flushed, or any less embarrassed that he is flushed and thinking about sex with Dean.
Evolution is a dull concept in comparison. ]
Never have I ever danced.
[ There. That's a concept that's completely nonsexual, except in every species and culture which ties dancing to mating which... actually, is quite a lot of them, so maybe Castiel's mind is as far enough away from the idea of sex as he'd hoped.
He also completely forgets to drink or strip for a good long moment, before it hits him suddenly and he rushes to both sip his drink and slip off a shoe at the same time. ]
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I can't say I dance well, but I've done it. [ He watches Cas with a little grin, waiting for him to take his shoe off before Dean obliges as well and peels out of his final layer, tossing his shirt into his messy pile beside Cas' nicely folded trench. He's gonna lose. ]
Never have I ever been...to another planet?
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That's not true. I'm sure you're a wonderful dancer.
[ Castiel's never seen Dean dance, but he's seen Dean fight, and those two things are often linked in ballads and poems. ...Along with sex, which Castiel is forced to acknoledge he's still thinking about as Dean removes his shirt and exposes a great deal of bare, freckled skin. Castiel's breathing picks up to match the race of his heart, but he manages to keep his eyes, possibly awkwardly, looking pointedly away, to respect Dean's privacy.
His eyes narrow at the question. For someone afraid of flight, Dean seems to have quite an interest in space. Castiel takes another sip of his drink that does nothing to him, that tastes similar to water, the way nearly everything on Earth does, and then he removes his other shoe and sets is in a row beside the first. ]
Earth is by far the most interesting planet in this galaxy, in case you're wondering.
[ Castiel is still looking at the motel room wallpaper as he thinks of something else he hasn't done. It's easy, really. Compared to humans (compared to Dean), there is so much angels can't experience. ]
Never have I ever been in love.
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Maybe we'll have to try a waltz sometime.
[ Sometimes, Cas, Dean thinks you're probably an alien. ]
I was wondering, thanks for confirming. [ Cas' 'never have I ever', though, that has Dean hesitate because, well.
He hasn't. Not until Cas, and he isn't sure about labeling that, because he doesn't know what love feels like because up until now he hasn't been in love, not properly; he thought maybe he'd loved Cassie and as a result of that he spilled his guts and told her what he did, but that wasn't really love, it was just lust, wasn't it, it didn't even last more than two months, and it's all very circular and it's easier to just say, ha, nope because that's the truth. Ish.
Jesus. ]
Sorry Cas, I get a freebie this round.
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I'd like that.
[ He's fully expecting Dean to remove another piece of clothing and to avoid looking at him for the duration of that game, but Dean's answer surprises him, and Castiel is tricked into looking directly at Dean, confidently sprawled in his chair as he is. Castiel frowns. ]
I don't understand. You've...
[ How many times has Dean bragged about his conquests, made lewd suggestions, spoken about past relationships? It wasn't a stretch to assume he'd loved someone, likely many people, before. Castiel's curiosity wins out of his embarrassment, and he finds himself asking directly. ]
You've been involved with many people in your life, intimately. But you never loved any of them?
[ He knows about prostitutes, obviously. He's read quite a few issues of Playboy now. It's not the fact that Dean's had casual sex that surprises him. Dean is human. More than that, he's incredibly caring. How is it possible he's never felt love for someone? And, if that's the case, is Castiel confused? Maybe what he's feeling for Dean isn't love at all, but some other... something. Is this really what infatuation feels like? He's startled by the idea. ]
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No. I guess I came close once or twice, but Cas, c'mon. You know the kind of life I live. I'd just end up getting someone killed, or worse. [ And there really is such a thing as worse in this instance - Dean knows it, intimately.
And furthermore, Dean doesn't really think he's worthy of anyone's love. ]
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"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark."
[ Castiel stares at Dean, even after he's finished his bland and toneless recitation, as if looking through him, to the radiant kindness and personification of love that is Dean's soul, might explain it. It doesn't. It only leaves Castiel with the same longing, the same feeling of distance, and the same questions. ]
How do you stop yourself from falling in love with someone?
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[ Who knew, angels apparently read Shakespeare.
The revelation is almost as surprising as Dean recognizing it, and letting slip that he's read love sonnets. Way to go you ignorant sap. ]
Great question. Don't get too close, for one thing. All those one nighters were just...one night. Don't let emotions get in the way, don't get to know them. It's easy enough, since Sammy and I are constantly on the move. [ He doesn't have time to get to know anyone.
He pauses, picks up his drink, winks at Cas with a smirk. ]
Booze helps.
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[ He doesn't. If the answer is don't get close to someone, abandon and leave them, then Cas believes Dean's method of avoiding love is flawed. Also, what is Castiel to do? He won't abandon Dean. He can't imagine a fate more miserable.
And booze won't help him, though Castiel does drink anyhow, still frowning over his glass. Dean winking at him, still gloriously shirtless doesn't help, either. "Then sigh not so, but let them go, and be you blithe and bonny." Easier said than done, perhaps. ]
It's your turn in the game still, Dean.
[ Please give him a distraction besides your beautiful naked chest, you absolute tease. ]
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Don't get too close.
All those one nighters were just...one night.
Don't let emotions get in the way.
Dean has literally done all of these things - immediately company included.
But that's different, right? Cas and Sam, that's a different kind of love. He's not in love with his brother, and he's not...in love with Cas.
Right?
He wavers a little, dissecting the dilemma in his head far more than necessary, lost in his thoughts until he's pulled out when Cas reminds him it's his turn. ]
Oh, yeah -- sorry. Uh, never have I ever sang a hymn. [ His brother was the churchy one, and when Dean sings, it's mullet rock or the Beatles, not I am the Bread of Life. ]
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He did want a distraction, after all, and Dean's given him one, but it's still not enough. Castiel's thoughts are still firmly set on love, and sex, and Dean, and combinations of all three. It's frustrating. ]
Seraphim were created by God to "carry out His will with fiery passion, threefold." Personally, I always preferred the "fiery passion" that entailed purification of sin from sinners rather than the kind that involved singing His praises. Or the kind that involved smiting in His name.
[ Castiel rolls his shoulders out of his shirt, folds it thoughtfully, and adds it to the growing pile. ]
Never have I ever played a game like this before.
[ What happens once they're both sitting here, naked? Do they simply dress themselves again, or...? Are they supposed to stop before they get to that point? Castiel's drink is nearly empty. What happens once it's gone? He still has so many questions and so very few answers.
...Still. It's nice to spend time to Dean. It's nice to feel as if Dean is comfortable enough to play this sort of game with him. It's nice to drink with Dean and share stories. Maybe that's the point of the game. ]
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[ Yeah, you seem like a choir boy, Cas.
Then again, the way he unbuttons his shirt slowly, as if teasing, has Dean shifting uncomfortably in his chair, surprised at his reaction to what Cas is doing. He's unable to look away, eyes dropping with every button Cas undoes, drinking in all of the skin he's suddenly been gifted with viewing.
This might've been a bad idea. ]
Really? Angels don't play war games or anything? [ He's still got socks on too, so he'll pull one of those off, take a sip, reach for the bottle to refill both of their glasses.
There's one question answered for Cas. ]
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And that answers that. Castiel holds his glass out while it's refilled, trying to concentrate on the lovely way the liquid strikes the glass rather than the sinuous pull of Dean's bicep beneath the scar he'd placed there: that claiming mark of possession, of ownership by a servant of Heaven, of victory against Hell. The fingerprints of his grace, burned into Dean's skin.
Feeling suddenly dry-mouthed, Castiel takes a sip of his drink as soon as Dean is finished refilling it, which is somewhat contradictory to what he says (and against the rules of the game), but Castiel doesn't seem particularly bothered by either. ]
We played games, occasionally. Not like this, though. Angels have no use for alcoholic beverages. Or clothing, except when we're occupying human vessels, which is rare, generally.
[ Or it was before the apocalypse began. ]
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[ No booze, no strip games. Yikes.
Dean seems pretty comfortable being half naked in front of Cas, but it's probably because he's had a lot of whiskey, and it's...Cas. It seems self-explanatory, somehow. ]
Never have I ever seen the pyramids. [ He's not sure Cas has but a lot of biblical shit happened there so chances are good. ]
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[ Was Cas the nerd of the family? Yes. He just didn't fit in. Uriel's sense of humor and Cas's were... very different. He infinitely prefers Dean's company even to his closest friends from his garrison, as guilty as he would be to admit it. He sips from his drink, sets it aside and removes both his socks, as Dean had. ]
The pyramids of Giza haven't always been a peaceful place, but they are now. I could take you there, if you'd like to see them.
[ Just one little flight, Dean... ]
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[ He would like to see them, actually. It would be pretty fascinating, he's never really been out of the country, and there's something...mythical about them, just how old they are, how they correspond to the constellations. ]
Yeah, we should do that sometime. [ Maybe. Maybe. ] But man, Cas, every time you zap me someplace it messes up my insides.
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Now that he's met Dean, though he wonders. He and Dean are very different, of course, but... they seem to share ideals. Dean appreciates the beauty of the Earth and its people in the same way Castiel does. ...Which is to say, not at all like the other angels. Castiel would like to show Dean more of the world and all of the places he's found beautiful. He thinks Dean would find them beautiful, as well. He wants to see the bright light in Dean's eyes as he observes the pyramids of Cairo, or the tulip fields of Holland, or the rice fields of Bali, or a thousand other places. To take would require flying, though, which Dean is obviously still uncomfortable with, despite his agreement. Castiel smiles softly. ]
I could take you in a dream instead, if you'd allow me.
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[ By choice, he means, because others have certainly gotten in uninvited. ]
Hell, I'd let you use me as a vessel if you needed to. But if I'm gonna see Egypt, then I'm gonna see it, know what I mean? I'd have to suck it up and let you fly me on this one.
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Thank you, Dean. Though I'm sure that it would never come to that.
[ Using Dean as a vessel, he means. Castiel would do everything he could, even die, to prevent endangering Dean in that way, even as much as the idea excites a dangerously possessive side of him. His eyes wander down Dean's bare skin, to his left shoulder where that mark remains: Castiel's claim of Dean's body for the restitution of his soul. Gradually, his eyes lift back to Dean's, though the intensity there remains. ]
We'll fly, then. When you're ready.
[ Castiel has forgotten the game again but this discussion with Dean is much more exciting to Castiel than exposing skin that isn't truly his or imbibing alcohol in such small amounts that his grace is unaffected. ]
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