[It's later in the day on the 26th when Skye shows up at his doorstep, Colt in hand this time. She isn't doing any better than yesterday, mentally or physically, but she at least made sure she didn't look like a complete mess.
Spotting Dean's wrecked car in front of the house, Skye quickly looks away as she steps up to his front door. She saw the video message Cas had made earlier in the day, but she hadn't looked to see if anyone had responded. Apparently they did.
Taking a deep breath, Skye keeps the gun at her side. Safety on, obviously.]
[ Cas looks exhausted when he opens the door - gun at his side, too, though when he sees it's her he puts it aside. He looks exhausted, and is only partially dressed, in frayed jeans, feet and chest bare. He's lean bordering on too thin, like a man who regularly doesn't give his body everything it needs. It's not terrible, not at all - not malnourished so much as mildly underfed. Just noticable enough to the perceptive eye. ]
Welcome back.
[ His voice is a hoarse mess, but her gestures her inside and steps away from the door. ]
Come on in.
[ And he turns around, leading the way back into the dark house. On his sharp shoulder blades, she'll be able to see his antler tattoo - like broken wing stumps on his back, bleeding slightly. ]
[ Been better. What a good way to describe their entire existence, here. ]
Yeah. Fascinating people, in this place.
[ He can't say he's ever seen someone swinging on webstrings like that - even if for a moment there he'd been convinced his head had finally cracked and gone straight through several shades of madness. ]
Paid to get the car here, at least. You want some, next time this place breaks you?
[ And she might notice that he doesn't look pleased about that himself. Nothing with which to take the edge of, except shitty wine, good whiskey, and pills that are incompatible with the alcohol.
It sucks. ]
Only had the one in my pocket, here. Figured I'd smoke it sometime during the suicide mission back home, but. Well. Never got around to it.
[Skye knows that people can show up here after they die back home, and she quickly realizes that may have happened to Cas. Especially when he implies that he never got around to smoking his joint.]
Are you—?
What happened?
cw: mentions of death and virus based post apocalypse
[ He finishes the thought to its logical conclusion with a wry smile that doesn't touch his eyes. ]
Yeah, uhm. Died and came here.
[ He shrugs. ]
Where Dean and I are from, there's, uhm... a virus. The Croatoan Virus. Infected and eradicated most of the population. The infected... Croats. They, uhm... turn into murderous rabid creatures with varying degrees of intelligence. Ranging from cruel and cunning to savage and mindless. Virus transmit through the blood. And no... I've heard the comparison. Not undead. The world's hit the end of times, though. What's left of the military bombs infected zones. Cities are uninhabitable.
[ There's a moment there as he describes it, almost like his demeanor sharpens - not against her, but it's like his focus improves, a mind tumbling along its own sharp edges settling on something concrete he can speak on with expertise.
He's a soldier, by nature more than profession. Has been for billions of years. Battle and tactics - this is where his mind turns into a weapon all on its own. ]
I went into a nest with a group of people, and we ended up overrun. I put bullets into the heads of those members of my team I could reach, so they'd die fast and not get shredded. Clip ran out. There wasn't time to change it and get a bullet for myself - or get the joint.
[ He frowns, then pulls himself back, folds the capable soldier back into the hippie drug addict like he'd never even been there. ]
So, uh. Yeah. Suppose I'm quite officially... dead.
[ He leaves out most of it - Dean's orders, the fact that both Dean and Cas knew the outcome of this before it happened, and Dean told him to go anyway, and Cas went anyway.
He doesn't think one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, exactly, but... well. Dean's not... gone, not for good, and something in his chest churns at the thought of putting that particular barbed wire out into the open for people to use who are not involved or affected. This is their mess. This is theirs, and sometimes Cas wonders if it's the only thing they have left between them.
[For a while after her arrival, Skye really believed she was dead back home. Honestly, how could she not? She was shot in the gut twice and the last thing she remembers before arriving here is bleeding out on the floor, alone.
The fact that this was some people’s afterlife was awful, and she doesn’t even try to hide the empathy written all over her face. She doesn’t reach out to hug him, yet, but she does reach for his hand.]
[ There's a moment here, tangible. In this moment a reality exists in which Cas acknowledges that he's starved for this - for someone, anyone, to give a shit, to reach out, to tether him to a world that hurts every time he breathes, and somehow make it better. His fingers twitch, as if to reach out.
Except then he just smiles his empty smile, and wraps his hand around her forearm instead, tugging her along.
Cas doesn't know how to do this. Cas doesn't know how to want this - comfort that doesn't hurt. ]
Now. [ Pivot. Pivot before you crash the car. ] In the absence of, uhm... something to smoke. Can I interest you in shitty wine?
[The change in subject was pretty obvious, and Skye wasn’t about to push it. She allows him to lead her, because it’s honestly so dark in this place it’s hard to see where she’s going anyway.]
How much of that stuff do you have anyway?
[It’s pretty awful, and Skye probably wouldn’t have much.]
Hmmm... too much. Crate of bottles on the front porch out of nowhere.
[ Cas shrugs a shoulder. He hasn't bothered keeping track of how much is gone. ]
We find something better to drink about than... [ Saying it is harder than it should be ]... well you know... I'll give you some of Dean's whiskey instead.
[ Just not something for this kind of occasion. Cas winces a little at his inability to even say it, not sure if he's trying to spare her or himself. ]
[If she suddenly sounds wary, it's because she is. She's gotten messed up here multiple times thanks to the food and drinks this place has handed out.]
Think he'd pissed that we can drank it when he comes back?
[Whiskey sounds a lot better right about now, but it almost feels wrong to drink from Dean's stash.]
Wow. Do I really look that bad?
[Except Skye isn't actually offended. She's well aware that she looks like utter crap.]
[ Cas asks it with almost casual dismissal. He's used to Dean being cold towards him, quite frankly. Being the catalyst for annoyance or hypothetical anger seems preferrable, to him - at least then Dean feels something for him. At least if Cas gets under his skin in bad ways, it's a dialogue rather than a shut door. It's been a long while since they've been... friends, Cas supposes. If they'd ever been. Angels don't have a good measure for such things. ]
Yes. Sorry, I'm supposed to be more charming about this, right? I mean... don't get me wrong, you're, uhm.... still beautiful. Just... beautiful still looks like shit after a month without sleep. And... an accident.
[ Oh. Oh, does she think he's not gonna grab onto this and use it to needle at her?
Well. ]
And here I thought you wanted to make a delivery. Just here for one thing, aren't you. By all means - go ahead. I'm sure I'll find something nice to say.
[ And that grin? Yeah, that is for once tinged with actual amusement. ]
[ Cas leads the way back to the kitchen. It's a broken house - the living room is hardly more comfortable. Especially with stained glass of Dean's torturing days in Hell hovering over the couch.
Cas stops for a moment, puts a hand on Sky's shoulder, the other over his heart. ]
You don't look so shitty that I'd, uhm... call it bumping uglies.
[ There's no edge there either, though, just a flippant comment. Cas moves about the kitchen for a moment, getting them glasses and whiskey, and pouring a generous double into each glass. ]
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perfectantidote) wrote2020-10-07 03:45 am
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deerington
cw: mentions of sex
Yeah, uhm... yeah.
[ How is this so painfully awkward? He's used to being naked with people, used to fucking and splitting after, used to being open about it, too. This?
He's starting to get why Dean rejects talk about emotions. ]
I'll see you.
no subject
Spotting Dean's wrecked car in front of the house, Skye quickly looks away as she steps up to his front door. She saw the video message Cas had made earlier in the day, but she hadn't looked to see if anyone had responded. Apparently they did.
Taking a deep breath, Skye keeps the gun at her side. Safety on, obviously.]
no subject
Welcome back.
[ His voice is a hoarse mess, but her gestures her inside and steps away from the door. ]
Come on in.
[ And he turns around, leading the way back into the dark house. On his sharp shoulder blades, she'll be able to see his antler tattoo - like broken wing stumps on his back, bleeding slightly. ]
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[Skye half expects him to just take the gun from her at the door, so when she’s invited in she hesitates for a second.]
You got someone to help you bring the car back?
[Her eyes land on his back as she steps inside, and even in the low light she can make out his tattoo bleeding.]
What happened?
[He has to know that his back is bleeding, right?]
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[ Cas makes a dismissive gesture. ]
It keeps doing that. It's fine.
[ Probably. He keeps ditching shirts because of that. Can't bleed through everything he has on loan from Dean, after all. ]
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Maybe you should get it checked out anyway.
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Probably. I'm genuinely... too tired to mind it, much. How is your.. uhm. Everything.
[ The wounds, the... survivor's guilt.
He winces, moving towards the kitchen once more.
Wine, definitely. ]
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[It’s the most honest she’s been with anyone besides Bucky and Coulson.]
I guess you found someone to share that joint with you.
[The house reeked of it.]
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Yeah. Fascinating people, in this place.
[ He can't say he's ever seen someone swinging on webstrings like that - even if for a moment there he'd been convinced his head had finally cracked and gone straight through several shades of madness. ]
Paid to get the car here, at least. You want some, next time this place breaks you?
[ If he can scrounge some up, that is. ]
no subject
[The last time she had weed was with Blake when they both ended up as teenagers and--
Did things teenagers did.
They don't talk about it.no subject
[ And she might notice that he doesn't look pleased about that himself. Nothing with which to take the edge of, except shitty wine, good whiskey, and pills that are incompatible with the alcohol.
It sucks. ]
Only had the one in my pocket, here. Figured I'd smoke it sometime during the suicide mission back home, but. Well. Never got around to it.
no subject
Are you—?
What happened?
cw: mentions of death and virus based post apocalypse
[ He finishes the thought to its logical conclusion with a wry smile that doesn't touch his eyes. ]
Yeah, uhm. Died and came here.
[ He shrugs. ]
Where Dean and I are from, there's, uhm... a virus. The Croatoan Virus. Infected and eradicated most of the population. The infected... Croats. They, uhm... turn into murderous rabid creatures with varying degrees of intelligence. Ranging from cruel and cunning to savage and mindless. Virus transmit through the blood. And no... I've heard the comparison. Not undead. The world's hit the end of times, though. What's left of the military bombs infected zones. Cities are uninhabitable.
[ There's a moment there as he describes it, almost like his demeanor sharpens - not against her, but it's like his focus improves, a mind tumbling along its own sharp edges settling on something concrete he can speak on with expertise.
He's a soldier, by nature more than profession. Has been for billions of years. Battle and tactics - this is where his mind turns into a weapon all on its own. ]
I went into a nest with a group of people, and we ended up overrun. I put bullets into the heads of those members of my team I could reach, so they'd die fast and not get shredded. Clip ran out. There wasn't time to change it and get a bullet for myself - or get the joint.
[ He frowns, then pulls himself back, folds the capable soldier back into the hippie drug addict like he'd never even been there. ]
So, uh. Yeah. Suppose I'm quite officially... dead.
[ He leaves out most of it - Dean's orders, the fact that both Dean and Cas knew the outcome of this before it happened, and Dean told him to go anyway, and Cas went anyway.
He doesn't think one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, exactly, but... well. Dean's not... gone, not for good, and something in his chest churns at the thought of putting that particular barbed wire out into the open for people to use who are not involved or affected. This is their mess. This is theirs, and sometimes Cas wonders if it's the only thing they have left between them.
Should have been him under that dog.
He'd take a thousand deaths to spare Dean one. ]
CW: Gunshot wound
The fact that this was some people’s afterlife was awful, and she doesn’t even try to hide the empathy written all over her face. She doesn’t reach out to hug him, yet, but she does reach for his hand.]
I’m so sorry.
[Because what else can she say?]
no subject
Except then he just smiles his empty smile, and wraps his hand around her forearm instead, tugging her along.
Cas doesn't know how to do this. Cas doesn't know how to want this - comfort that doesn't hurt. ]
Now. [ Pivot. Pivot before you crash the car. ] In the absence of, uhm... something to smoke. Can I interest you in shitty wine?
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[The change in subject was pretty obvious, and Skye wasn’t about to push it. She allows him to lead her, because it’s honestly so dark in this place it’s hard to see where she’s going anyway.]
How much of that stuff do you have anyway?
[It’s pretty awful, and Skye probably wouldn’t have much.]
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[ Cas shrugs a shoulder. He hasn't bothered keeping track of how much is gone. ]
We find something better to drink about than... [ Saying it is harder than it should be ]... well you know... I'll give you some of Dean's whiskey instead.
[ Just not something for this kind of occasion. Cas winces a little at his inability to even say it, not sure if he's trying to spare her or himself. ]
We can drink and look like shit together.
no subject
[If she suddenly sounds wary, it's because she is. She's gotten messed up here multiple times thanks to the food and drinks this place has handed out.]
Think he'd pissed that we can drank it when he comes back?
[Whiskey sounds a lot better right about now, but it almost feels wrong to drink from Dean's stash.]
Wow. Do I really look that bad?
[Except Skye isn't actually offended. She's well aware that she looks like utter crap.]
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[ Cas asks it with almost casual dismissal. He's used to Dean being cold towards him, quite frankly. Being the catalyst for annoyance or hypothetical anger seems preferrable, to him - at least then Dean feels something for him. At least if Cas gets under his skin in bad ways, it's a dialogue rather than a shut door. It's been a long while since they've been... friends, Cas supposes. If they'd ever been. Angels don't have a good measure for such things. ]
Yes. Sorry, I'm supposed to be more charming about this, right? I mean... don't get me wrong, you're, uhm.... still beautiful. Just... beautiful still looks like shit after a month without sleep. And... an accident.
no subject
[Skye obviously has no idea just how turbulent their relationship is. She’ll get him some more whiskey too.
Snorting softly, Skye winces as it sends a shooting pain in her side.]
You think that’s bad? You should see what’s under here.
[...]
That didn’t come out right.
[Save her. Please.]
Where did you say that whiskey was?
no subject
Well. ]
And here I thought you wanted to make a delivery. Just here for one thing, aren't you. By all means - go ahead. I'm sure I'll find something nice to say.
[ And that grin? Yeah, that is for once tinged with actual amusement. ]
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Hilarious.
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[ Cas leads the way back to the kitchen. It's a broken house - the living room is hardly more comfortable. Especially with stained glass of Dean's torturing days in Hell hovering over the couch.
Cas stops for a moment, puts a hand on Sky's shoulder, the other over his heart. ]
You don't look so shitty that I'd, uhm... call it bumping uglies.
no subject
Shut up. I didn’t come here to get insulted.
[Yeah, she’s so insulted. That’s why she’s biting back tired, but real smile.]
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[ There's no edge there either, though, just a flippant comment. Cas moves about the kitchen for a moment, getting them glasses and whiskey, and pouring a generous double into each glass. ]
I'll compliment you once October is over. Deal?
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cw: mentions of death, nihilism, self-loathing
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