[ if cas weren't used to examining every detail of dean's expressions when they do this intense mutual staring thing, he might've missed the flicker of a glance down to the space between their arms. sometimes it's that quick with dean, a thought's there for the briefest moment before he's shoveling it away, and dean's looking away again. cas glances down to the same space, thinking, evaluating. ]
Suppose you're right.
[ he shifts back, leaning into the chair behind him, the motion bringing the side of his arm to brush against dean's bicep next to him. there's no long coat sleeves covering to make a barrier between their skin. the bond flares up, and cas swirls the remaining whisky in his glass, watching it slosh around, as if nothing's happened. it'd be easy for dean to shift and break the bond, if he wants, so cas leaves that to him to decide.
it's like coming up for air, or relaxing back into a plush cushion, the way it feels to be connected to the stream of dean's emotion. reminiscent of how it felt to touch the man's soul, back when he'd reassembled him, piece by piece, from what tatters hell left him in. from cas, there's a slight concern there, but no fear, no frustration. pensive, with the light, pleasant buzz of intoxication making everything a bit lazier, calmer. ]
Maybe we should start living how we want to now, in the longer lulls between leads. While we're beyond Chuck's control. [ while chuck isn't writing their stories and plotting out the obstacle course to manipulate them into running. ] We may never get another chance.
[ in case they're ripped away from this world, dragged back, like gene had returned home for years. all the apocalypses they've lived through, but there's a very good chance they won't survive this one. the sentiment comes twined in a detached kind of melancholy, not severe, but somewhat resigned. cas is grateful the bond only translates emotions, rather than thoughts, his eyes glued to the glass in his hand. what he truly wants, he can't exactly reach for. that - dean - will always be off the table for him. but, sharing a home with him, learning how to cook, operate appliances, play drinking games and poker with dean as his guide has been an easy, contented kind of joy. it's more than enough for him, and longing can take a backseat. ]
no subject
Suppose you're right.
[ he shifts back, leaning into the chair behind him, the motion bringing the side of his arm to brush against dean's bicep next to him. there's no long coat sleeves covering to make a barrier between their skin. the bond flares up, and cas swirls the remaining whisky in his glass, watching it slosh around, as if nothing's happened. it'd be easy for dean to shift and break the bond, if he wants, so cas leaves that to him to decide.
it's like coming up for air, or relaxing back into a plush cushion, the way it feels to be connected to the stream of dean's emotion. reminiscent of how it felt to touch the man's soul, back when he'd reassembled him, piece by piece, from what tatters hell left him in. from cas, there's a slight concern there, but no fear, no frustration. pensive, with the light, pleasant buzz of intoxication making everything a bit lazier, calmer. ]
Maybe we should start living how we want to now, in the longer lulls between leads. While we're beyond Chuck's control. [ while chuck isn't writing their stories and plotting out the obstacle course to manipulate them into running. ] We may never get another chance.
[ in case they're ripped away from this world, dragged back, like gene had returned home for years. all the apocalypses they've lived through, but there's a very good chance they won't survive this one. the sentiment comes twined in a detached kind of melancholy, not severe, but somewhat resigned. cas is grateful the bond only translates emotions, rather than thoughts, his eyes glued to the glass in his hand. what he truly wants, he can't exactly reach for. that - dean - will always be off the table for him. but, sharing a home with him, learning how to cook, operate appliances, play drinking games and poker with dean as his guide has been an easy, contented kind of joy. it's more than enough for him, and longing can take a backseat. ]