inonebasket | (no subject)

There's nobody else here that Dean cares about enough to mother. He wriggles his way out the window, sitting on the sill and glowering up at the roof.

"Dammit, Cas! How'd you even get up there?" No way he's going to manage sleep, not with a used-to-be angel perching on the roof like a friggin' seagull.

"The drainpipe." Now that Cas is laying down he's actually kind of comfortable, but it sounds like Dean is having some issues with climbing onto the roof so, reluctantly, he rolls over and crawls back to the edge. "Do you need some help?"

"And you didn't fall and die? No, Cas, I do not need some help."

Dean will get up on the roof on his own, thank you very much, he'll just do it with some grunting and ungraceful flailing.

"Great. There's stars in the sky, good for you. And hey, there's the big dipper! Do you remember it now? Can we go back in?"

Cas reaches over with a sigh and places his hand just barely over Dean's mouth, palm against his lips, before withdrawing and lacing his fingers over his stomach again. "A common human misconception is that space, as a vacuum, has no sound. This isn't true; objects within space don't produce a sound humans can hear due to the lack of air molecules. However, angels can hear waves, and space contains every conceivable kind of wave ever to exist."

Well, that shut him up for all of half a minute.

"So what, angels are just up in heaven, sitting on a space beach, listening to space waves? Would it be so hard for you to just pick up a shell?" He pantomimes holding one up to his ear for Cas' benefit because he has no idea if Cas will understand that reference or not. He doesn't get it at the most inconvenient times.

No he doesn't get it. This look should make it obvious.

Sigh. Knew it. Dean sits up.

"Okay, when kids, human kids, go to the beach they get these shells, okay? Big ones. Some kind of snail thing. You hold the shell up to your ear, and you can hear the ocean."

He lies back down again, hands behind his head.

"Sam told me it's actually the echo of your blood or something. Honestly, I don't really get it, I just know that you hold up a shell and you hear waves."

"Perhaps because when you find the shell, you're already at the beach."

DUH.

"You take them home with you, Cas! You don't hold them to your ear while you're there, it's so you can remember the damn waves when you're gone!"

DUH.

"Why wouldn't they remember without the aide of a shell? Are their memories being altered?" What the heck are parents doing to their kids these days.

Dean covers his face with his hands.

"It's just a...y'know what, never mind. Forget it." Why does he ever try to explain humanity to Cas?

Why indeed.

Castiel returns his attention to the sky, hands on his stomach, and crosses his ankles. After a moment he sits up, shucks off his jacket and reaches over to drape it over Dean's chest before laying back down, as if it were the most normal thing to do.

Oh for--

Dean chucks the jacket back at Cas.

"Dude, I've got at least 20 pounds of muscle on you. You're gonna freeze before I do."

"You were complaining about the cold earlier." Castiel gently chucks it back. Don't be a bitch, Dean. Take the jacket.

"Look, I just found you again after I thought you'd freaking drowned, okay? Forgive me if I don't wanna see you freeze." Dean chucks it back--again--and scoots back toward the edge of the roof.

"I'm going back in. Don't you dare stay up here all night."

Castiel sits up, holding his jacket and feeling as if he'd just done something wrong. Frowning, he slips it back on and follows Dean off of the roof to head back inside. "I'm done."

"Nah, man, you stay up there. You looked like you were enjoying the view."

It isn't that Cas has done anything wrong. Not exactly. It's just Dean being his usual gruff, concerned self, doing that thing where he worries about people but pretends nothing's the matter. He scoots back in through the window and heads back to his bed.

Castiel is already off of the roof by the time Dean tells him to forget about it, but instead of climbing in through the window he leans his elbows against the sill, clasping his hands. The curtains ruffle slightly in the breeze, brushing against his sleeves and knuckles. "Dean."

Cas stops, takes a deep breath and plows forward. There's something intimate about discussions in the dark, just the sliver of moonlight falling over his shoulder to illuminate the room. "You need to tell me what you need me to do. I don't-" He tilts his head in a familiar gestures, attempting to find the correct words. "I'm trying to be something...different. Something you can more easily relate to."

Dean's busy stripping off his damp socks and crawling back into bed when Cas pipes up again and it takes him a minute to process the words.

"Cas, if I wanted something different, I'd shack up with a Leviathan, okay?" This is Dean, trying to be reassuring. "Look. I know we don't always get each other. Human angel disconnect or whatever it is. And sometimes you piss me off but good. But I've seen your 'something different' and I ain't interested in seeing it again. You just be you, alright?"

"I'm not an angel anymore."

Get it, Dean? He can't be him anymore, not entirely. He just hasn't given himself any time to try and figure it out, between hunting Leviathan and trying to survive. The introduction of Dean back into his life reminded Cas of his budding humanity and he's just...not quite sure what to do with all these obnoxious, distracting, annoying feelings scrambling around inside.

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that. You already told me that bit."

Squash those feelings, Cas. Squash them before Dean starts having feelings, too.

"What I'm saying, Cas, is that you don't have to try to be something different, okay? Just be yourself, whatever yourself is right now." Hello, Dean, sounding a bit like an after school special here, aren't we? "Y'know. You with the whole not getting humanity and missing the jokes thing. It works for you, man. It's what I'm used to. Keep it."

Well. Well, all right.

Cas climbs in the window, even though the door is right there and unlocked. He closes the window, pulls the drapes, locks the door and is about to circle around to his bed when he spots the bag of food still on the table. Two burgers and two pies.

...he's still starving.

Well hey, Dean did get extra food for a reason. Cas is looking a bit scrawny. Or...scrawnier than usual, anyway.

He rolls over, face down into the pillow, gun safely (hah) stashed beneath it again. "Gotta admit, I'm glad you can't poof anymore. Less chance of heart attack."

How the heck is Cas supposed to know that food is for him. ...okay so it's a reasonable conclusion to reach, but he's still in that semi-awkward stage of 'does he actually want me around' where he's still feeling out the edges of Dean's hospitality. It's a curiously complicated thing for someone still relatively new to humanity.

Cas pulls open the edge of the bag; the paper makes a too-loud crinkling sound in the dark. "I miss flying."

Good job, Dean. Just shove your whole foot in your mouth, why doncha? He clears his throat and rolls onto his side, squinting in the darkness at Cas. "Yeah, I uh. I guess you would--why don't you turn on a light, man? Make it easier to see."