[ Castiel looks at Dean. They're close, closer than he knows Dean to usually be comfortable with. But these are not usual circumstances. Castiel is hardly in his usual shape. They've always been good at communicating with few words and many open glances. Castiel's eyes, behind the glassy pain, are... conflicted.
His faith in Dean is unshakable, yet there is hesitation there, not because he doesn't trust Dean, per se, it's just...
It's just that...
Much has has happened in their shared time here. Castiel can still feel that prayer pressed against his lips, can still feel that kiss all the way to the depth of his true form, where his grace trembles at the precipe of a feeling so much grander than he could have anticipated.
He remembers sinking into a swamp of despair with Dean, accepting death, feeling hopeless and hapless, like nothing mattered, yet taking solace in the fact that at least they were going to go down together this time, if either of them had to die.
He remembers the walls they'd both tried to erect, trying to protect the ruins that moment in the church had left them with.
He remembers immeasurable pain until a forehead leaned against his, and fingers slick with blood released his bonds and delievered him unto safety.
Castiel still has faith in Dean. But he's no longer sure he ever truly knew what to do with that faith himself. His error in judgment has brought them here, where everything is strained and strange.
So his eyes are conflicted. Vulnerable, but there's a certain level of pained, reluctant distrust there. ]
It's... not usually like this. They're part of my true form, but... they can be physical. And because the damage inflicted is physical...
[ Castiel gestures, vaguely. Rolls a shoulder in obvious discomfort. ]
I can't reach, and they're not fixing themselves as they should.
[ It almost sounds like pleading. Like he's trying to offer up more excuses for why Dean's help is... required.
It's not that he doesn't trust Dean with his health and safety, it's just...
It's...
He doesn't know how to put it in words, but perhaps it's obvious in the mix of shame and embarrassment, that to allow this much isn't exactly casual.
There's a reason angel feathers are very, very rare to come by for people. It's not quite... intimate in the way humans would consider. But there's a weight and importance related to allowing this. Castiel isn't sure how to explain it, but he hopes... that where he failed to understand, perhaps Dean might.
It's not a no - in fact, Castiel knows he cannot afford to say no to the offer.
But he doesn't want Dean to think that Castiel is getting it wrong and asking for an intimacy that Dean clearly has no wish for. ]
You... don't have to. They will be fine, eventually. But...
[ He lets the sentence dangle, but keeps his eyes on Dean.
no subject
His faith in Dean is unshakable, yet there is hesitation there, not because he doesn't trust Dean, per se, it's just...
It's just that...
Much has has happened in their shared time here. Castiel can still feel that prayer pressed against his lips, can still feel that kiss all the way to the depth of his true form, where his grace trembles at the precipe of a feeling so much grander than he could have anticipated.
He remembers sinking into a swamp of despair with Dean, accepting death, feeling hopeless and hapless, like nothing mattered, yet taking solace in the fact that at least they were going to go down together this time, if either of them had to die.
He remembers the walls they'd both tried to erect, trying to protect the ruins that moment in the church had left them with.
He remembers immeasurable pain until a forehead leaned against his, and fingers slick with blood released his bonds and delievered him unto safety.
Castiel still has faith in Dean. But he's no longer sure he ever truly knew what to do with that faith himself. His error in judgment has brought them here, where everything is strained and strange.
So his eyes are conflicted. Vulnerable, but there's a certain level of pained, reluctant distrust there. ]
It's... not usually like this. They're part of my true form, but... they can be physical. And because the damage inflicted is physical...
[ Castiel gestures, vaguely. Rolls a shoulder in obvious discomfort. ]
I can't reach, and they're not fixing themselves as they should.
[ It almost sounds like pleading. Like he's trying to offer up more excuses for why Dean's help is... required.
It's not that he doesn't trust Dean with his health and safety, it's just...
It's...
He doesn't know how to put it in words, but perhaps it's obvious in the mix of shame and embarrassment, that to allow this much isn't exactly casual.
There's a reason angel feathers are very, very rare to come by for people. It's not quite... intimate in the way humans would consider. But there's a weight and importance related to allowing this. Castiel isn't sure how to explain it, but he hopes... that where he failed to understand, perhaps Dean might.
It's not a no - in fact, Castiel knows he cannot afford to say no to the offer.
But he doesn't want Dean to think that Castiel is getting it wrong and asking for an intimacy that Dean clearly has no wish for. ]
You... don't have to. They will be fine, eventually. But...
[ He lets the sentence dangle, but keeps his eyes on Dean.
But I need you. ]