[ Cas nearly laughs, an empty half-smile while shaking his head. how much easier would it have been if he threatened him? dean stabbed him through the chest and fired a shotgun into him the first minute they met in person, he could handle dean threatening him all day and night and then some. how funny, how ironic, how perfectly and appropriately human, that an accusation of love is so much more painful than any act of violence. a hollow laugh catches in his throat, sparking another fit of coughing, body jerking involuntarily and castiel's never felt more chained to this physical, human world, more at the mercy of this delicate body so prone to whims of heart and mind.
jo's hand in his is the island shelter in a tempest. a warm, steadying, anchor - harbor safe from the storm, and his fingers curl back between hers, clinging as if she's a life ring. body giving out, heart aching, mind a swamp, jo's the lighthouse of all things he trusts in the midst of it. a fire and fight burns in her eyes, bright as her fiery soul, it's a well of strength he's so admired in her. something so furious and powerful in such a small frame, in as fragile a human body as the rest, as him.
it was all lies, she tells him, and castiel's hand squeezes back wanting to believe her, wanting to brush it away like a pesky mosquito or dust off a shoulder. but why is it still hitting so hard after it's done and gone? the core of him feels like it's been punctured between plates of armor and he's bleeding out, unable to contain it. ]
I don't know that it was.
[ he croaks the words, a soft, hapless half-smile weary on his lips, while callous-rough fingertips fidget at the back of her knuckles. he's as torn as she is, unsure how much of this she should carry, if giving words to it, allowing sound and wave lengths in the real world to solidify the concepts is any kind of right, or any shade of practical. in the end, he simply can't contain it. perhaps that's part of this delicate humanity just as well. ]
Dean always saw more of me than any others, but— [ he swallows thickly, bites back against the shame that creeps up his spine recalling the saccharine words spoken in sweet savagery against his ear. He find Jo's eyes and breathes out, giving up, letting it fall away and leave him bare and hopeless. It's a whisper, some gentle secret admission between the two of them. ] How utterly stupid - a crippled, fading streak of light thinking it could love a man. Much less save him.
[ he half expects jo's hand to retreat, for some sense of betrayal from her, and he couldn't blame her for it. he was never even meant for this world, much less the hearts of those within in. in truth, he'd rather that than see pity in her eyes. ]
no subject
[ Cas nearly laughs, an empty half-smile while shaking his head. how much easier would it have been if he threatened him? dean stabbed him through the chest and fired a shotgun into him the first minute they met in person, he could handle dean threatening him all day and night and then some. how funny, how ironic, how perfectly and appropriately human, that an accusation of love is so much more painful than any act of violence. a hollow laugh catches in his throat, sparking another fit of coughing, body jerking involuntarily and castiel's never felt more chained to this physical, human world, more at the mercy of this delicate body so prone to whims of heart and mind.
jo's hand in his is the island shelter in a tempest. a warm, steadying, anchor - harbor safe from the storm, and his fingers curl back between hers, clinging as if she's a life ring. body giving out, heart aching, mind a swamp, jo's the lighthouse of all things he trusts in the midst of it. a fire and fight burns in her eyes, bright as her fiery soul, it's a well of strength he's so admired in her. something so furious and powerful in such a small frame, in as fragile a human body as the rest, as him.
it was all lies, she tells him, and castiel's hand squeezes back wanting to believe her, wanting to brush it away like a pesky mosquito or dust off a shoulder. but why is it still hitting so hard after it's done and gone? the core of him feels like it's been punctured between plates of armor and he's bleeding out, unable to contain it. ]
I don't know that it was.
[ he croaks the words, a soft, hapless half-smile weary on his lips, while callous-rough fingertips fidget at the back of her knuckles. he's as torn as she is, unsure how much of this she should carry, if giving words to it, allowing sound and wave lengths in the real world to solidify the concepts is any kind of right, or any shade of practical. in the end, he simply can't contain it. perhaps that's part of this delicate humanity just as well. ]
Dean always saw more of me than any others, but— [ he swallows thickly, bites back against the shame that creeps up his spine recalling the saccharine words spoken in sweet savagery against his ear. He find Jo's eyes and breathes out, giving up, letting it fall away and leave him bare and hopeless. It's a whisper, some gentle secret admission between the two of them. ] How utterly stupid - a crippled, fading streak of light thinking it could love a man. Much less save him.
[ he half expects jo's hand to retreat, for some sense of betrayal from her, and he couldn't blame her for it. he was never even meant for this world, much less the hearts of those within in. in truth, he'd rather that than see pity in her eyes. ]