[ 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. ]
[ Dean is a little surprised that it's come out of his mouth, honestly. He never thought he'd actually consent to being an angel's vessel - especially not with all this Michael shit going on - but if Cas asked him, if Cas needed him like that, in that capacity...
He'd do it. He'd probably question it, as is Dean's way of things, but he would give his consent, let Cas into his heart and mind and body. ]
Probably not, [ He says roughly, in response to Cas' thanks. ] But, just so you know. If you ever needed me.
[ Cas has the 'yes' he needs.
Dean can tell the game is pretty much forgotten at this point, even as he sits here shirtless and barefoot, drinking with an ambiguously non-gendered angel in a male vessel, trying not to get hard as he traces Cas' lips with his eyes, drinks in the miles of pale, creamy skin he's been allowed to view. ]
[ The game is indeed forgotten, leaving them both half-naked with no further incentive to either strip further or dress themselves. Dean has been drinking as much as Castiel has, and his raised blood alcohol must be the reason why he's staring at Castiel the way he is and volunteering himself for insane possibilities like allowing Castiel's grace to be housed inside of him and offering to let Castiel to fly him across the world. Humans are easily affected by the spirits they imbibe, but what, then, is Castiel's excuse? He feels warmly flushed in a way unrelated to the alcohol he's consumed, and he follows Dean's eyes to his lips, as Castiel presses them together, wets his lips with his tongue: a thoughtless, automatic response, and the charge he feels between himself and Dean is electric and real, though he can't identify the cause of it.
It's unnerving and exciting at once, and Castiel feels anticipatory, though he has no idea for what. He shouldn't possess Dean. He shouldn't goad him into flight. Dean has been drinking; the game is over. He should excuse himself, and instead he finds himself thinking about laying his hands on Dean, touching his exposed skin, kissing his mouth.
Thoughts like that are wildly dangerous for an angel. Startlingly, they're becoming more frequent, but only when he's alone with Dean, like this. Castiel sets his glass down on the table and begins to stand. ]
I have to go.
[ Between one blink and the next, Castiel is fully dressed, his clothing gone from the floor. He looks at the pile of Dean's discarded clothes, momentarily debating whether he should dress Dean as well before deciding it's Dean choice to make. Castiel looks at Dean again, not with heat, but with restraint. His shoulders are stiff. His jaw is tense. ]
Thank you again, Dean. I enjoyed our game, and I look forward to the next one.
[ Dean's been drinking, sure, but it's like a vitamin to him, he isn't drunk. He knows exactly what he's saying, and even if he's a little warm and fuzzy, Dean knows he means what he says.
That's kinda scary, actually. Dean Winchester, giving an angel consent. Who would have ever thought he'd do such a thing, give permission to a celestial being to occupy his mind and body, share literally every single aspect of himself?
It's not just any angel, though. It's Cas - Cas, who's done so much for him, given up everything, has been there every step of the way.
He watches the angel wet his lips, eyes darkening with lust, cock twitching between his legs, and he has to shift, adjust his jeans so it isn't so obvious. Dean's so lost in his staring, in his visual consumption of plush lips and soft skin that it's jarring when Cas gets up. ]
Wait a second, what's wrong? [ Dean can clearly see Cas is uncomfortable, that he's stiff and standing awkwardly, and it makes Dean uncomfortable, being so exposed as he is. ]
Did I say something? [ He asks, groping for his t-shirt, at the very damn least. ]
[ Even if Castiel could press his fingers to Dean's skin and see how sober he is (or isn't), it wouldn't change his decision to leave. As much as Dean's consent is important to him, Castiel's consent is important, too. It isn't the alcohol that's inhibited him, but something must have. He's uncomfortably aroused, and even Dean were suddenly, miraculously interested, blood alcohol content aside, this isn't something Castiel should allow.
He's rebelled against Heaven, but to rebel against the natural law that angels aren't allowed to... have certain feelings towards humans... It's worse than simple rebellion, he imagines.
Dean's concern has Castiel hesitating, but only briefly. It isn't Dean's responsibility to bear, after all, and he shouldn't feel guilty for Castiel's actions in either direction. ]
No. It's nothing like that. There's... something I need to do.
[ Important angel duties. Obviously. Not learn how to deal with an uncomfortably human erection. That would be ridiculous. Castiel is still looking off towards the far wall, avoiding eye contact as Dean retrieves his own shirt. Maybe he should've dressed Dean after all. He's made things awkward. There's no point in staying longer. ]
Goodbye, Dean.
[ Castiel says, doing his best at conforming to human social graces, but without waiting for a response from Dean, Castiel is gone from the room with a rush of wind from the beating of his feathers. ]
[ He's got his shirt back on, looking up at Cas in confusion and worry, pushing himself up to his feet but keeping his distance because Cas is definitely ruffled and Dean...isn't sure why.
Must've been the whole 'sure, I'll be your vessel' thing. You don't just blurt that out, Jesus, Dean. ]
Just hang on a minute, you don't have to leave, I'm sorry--
[ But Cas says 'goodbye' and he's gone again, and Dean's left barefoot and horny and frustrated. ]
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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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He'd do it. He'd probably question it, as is Dean's way of things, but he would give his consent, let Cas into his heart and mind and body. ]
Probably not, [ He says roughly, in response to Cas' thanks. ] But, just so you know. If you ever needed me.
[ Cas has the 'yes' he needs.
Dean can tell the game is pretty much forgotten at this point, even as he sits here shirtless and barefoot, drinking with an ambiguously non-gendered angel in a male vessel, trying not to get hard as he traces Cas' lips with his eyes, drinks in the miles of pale, creamy skin he's been allowed to view. ]
Yeah. That...that would be really nice, Cas.
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It's unnerving and exciting at once, and Castiel feels anticipatory, though he has no idea for what. He shouldn't possess Dean. He shouldn't goad him into flight. Dean has been drinking; the game is over. He should excuse himself, and instead he finds himself thinking about laying his hands on Dean, touching his exposed skin, kissing his mouth.
Thoughts like that are wildly dangerous for an angel. Startlingly, they're becoming more frequent, but only when he's alone with Dean, like this. Castiel sets his glass down on the table and begins to stand. ]
I have to go.
[ Between one blink and the next, Castiel is fully dressed, his clothing gone from the floor. He looks at the pile of Dean's discarded clothes, momentarily debating whether he should dress Dean as well before deciding it's Dean choice to make. Castiel looks at Dean again, not with heat, but with restraint. His shoulders are stiff. His jaw is tense. ]
Thank you again, Dean. I enjoyed our game, and I look forward to the next one.
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That's kinda scary, actually. Dean Winchester, giving an angel consent. Who would have ever thought he'd do such a thing, give permission to a celestial being to occupy his mind and body, share literally every single aspect of himself?
It's not just any angel, though. It's Cas - Cas, who's done so much for him, given up everything, has been there every step of the way.
He watches the angel wet his lips, eyes darkening with lust, cock twitching between his legs, and he has to shift, adjust his jeans so it isn't so obvious. Dean's so lost in his staring, in his visual consumption of plush lips and soft skin that it's jarring when Cas gets up. ]
Wait a second, what's wrong? [ Dean can clearly see Cas is uncomfortable, that he's stiff and standing awkwardly, and it makes Dean uncomfortable, being so exposed as he is. ]
Did I say something? [ He asks, groping for his t-shirt, at the very damn least. ]
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He's rebelled against Heaven, but to rebel against the natural law that angels aren't allowed to... have certain feelings towards humans... It's worse than simple rebellion, he imagines.
Dean's concern has Castiel hesitating, but only briefly. It isn't Dean's responsibility to bear, after all, and he shouldn't feel guilty for Castiel's actions in either direction. ]
No. It's nothing like that. There's... something I need to do.
[ Important angel duties. Obviously. Not learn how to deal with an uncomfortably human erection. That would be ridiculous. Castiel is still looking off towards the far wall, avoiding eye contact as Dean retrieves his own shirt. Maybe he should've dressed Dean after all. He's made things awkward. There's no point in staying longer. ]
Goodbye, Dean.
[ Castiel says, doing his best at conforming to human social graces, but without waiting for a response from Dean, Castiel is gone from the room with a rush of wind from the beating of his feathers. ]
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Must've been the whole 'sure, I'll be your vessel' thing. You don't just blurt that out, Jesus, Dean. ]
Just hang on a minute, you don't have to leave, I'm sorry--
[ But Cas says 'goodbye' and he's gone again, and Dean's left barefoot and horny and frustrated. ]
Dammit, Cas.