[ cas squints across the green bubble as his brother goes on about worship, and he's not sure that's really the same as love. there's a critical shift in power dynamic, superiority.
but when he moves on to emotions and i've never felt anything like it, castiel's lips curl into a knowing, goofy, self-satisfied smile, like he's about to pop off with i told you humans are neat. perhaps lucifer just needed the right one, under the right circumstances to bring his guard down, and finally he sees what's so special about them. the victory's short lived, interrupted by fingers flicking around his face, and cas puffs a jet of air at them, like trying to dissuade little green glowing butterflies from landing on his face. calm down, butterflies, he's trying to have a come to not-jesus moment with his bro here. ]
The depth and breadth of their emotions, the power of them. It's overwhelming. [ he talks like giorgio tsoukalos giving a lecture on pyramid building aliens, and after rolling around on the forest floor, his hair probably looks the part. ] We think of ourselves as stronger, more resilient. But we aren't carrying a storm around at all times. If that's the force of a soul, I understand why they're so powerful.
[ the point is, you get it. some of them suck, but every now and again, you find one worth the entire kingdom of heaven and all you have to offer. were cas sober, this would be an extremely bizarre, suspiciously revealing speech lucifer's making, but now, strung out on bug-acid and half convinced he can see through time and smell colors, castiel's enthralled with it, nodding along. he'll be troubled by it later, when he realizes there's so much lucifer's said that resonates and relates to cas's own experiences.
being seen is an act of trust, in shedding armor and baring one's throat in the hopes your partner won't tear it out. the demon wearing dean's skin now saw straight through to castiel's naked core, and put a drove a spike into it. no wound he's ever suffered ached and burned quite so keenly, and he visibly squirms there on the floor at the thought of it, face scrunching up disgruntled.
it could also have something to do with the hand swatting his face. he slaps at lucifer's fingers bopping his nose, murmuring a low stop that, but not loud enough to interrupt the speech his brother's on. because it's enlightening, unnervingly so. ]
Terrifying, yes. Being vulnerable, honest and unguarded enough to be truly seen opens one up to the worst kind of wound. [ it's beautiful and horrible all bundled together, and even that balance reflects the grand equation of all things living within the universe. as he talks, cas squirms around, shuffles his feet along the floor as his torso inches back until he can jam the ball of his foot against lucifer's hip, shoving him and his rude hands away. as far as cas can tell, he's just cartwheeling on through his happy bubble space. the conversation carries on despite it. ] Istredd's certainly spoken as if he knows all you are and embraces it.
[ without having any traction, he can't really push lucifer anywhere, so it becomes something more like kneading and jabbing toes at his brother's side idly while they talk about love and existential dread. ]
Love, then, is acceptance of all facets of a person, believing even their worst faults necessary to the whole, beautiful composition of them. [ he is not calling lucifer beautiful, clearly there is another person on his mind, castiel's voice distant and eyes somewhere on the ceiling. that does seem about right. dean's done plenty of questionable things, and castiel's always defended him implicitly. cas destroyed sam's mind, lied to and betrayed dean, fucked up more times than he can count, and yet dean still trusts him. but perhaps that's just family, not love in the sense he might hope for. a pause, and he comes back to the conversation squinting over his feet at lucifer. ] Is it better to have it than not, knowing it might crumble or end in disaster, do you think?
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but when he moves on to emotions and i've never felt anything like it, castiel's lips curl into a knowing, goofy, self-satisfied smile, like he's about to pop off with i told you humans are neat. perhaps lucifer just needed the right one, under the right circumstances to bring his guard down, and finally he sees what's so special about them. the victory's short lived, interrupted by fingers flicking around his face, and cas puffs a jet of air at them, like trying to dissuade little green glowing butterflies from landing on his face. calm down, butterflies, he's trying to have a come to not-jesus moment with his bro here. ]
The depth and breadth of their emotions, the power of them. It's overwhelming. [ he talks like giorgio tsoukalos giving a lecture on pyramid building aliens, and after rolling around on the forest floor, his hair probably looks the part. ] We think of ourselves as stronger, more resilient. But we aren't carrying a storm around at all times. If that's the force of a soul, I understand why they're so powerful.
[ the point is, you get it. some of them suck, but every now and again, you find one worth the entire kingdom of heaven and all you have to offer. were cas sober, this would be an extremely bizarre, suspiciously revealing speech lucifer's making, but now, strung out on bug-acid and half convinced he can see through time and smell colors, castiel's enthralled with it, nodding along. he'll be troubled by it later, when he realizes there's so much lucifer's said that resonates and relates to cas's own experiences.
being seen is an act of trust, in shedding armor and baring one's throat in the hopes your partner won't tear it out. the demon wearing dean's skin now saw straight through to castiel's naked core, and put a drove a spike into it. no wound he's ever suffered ached and burned quite so keenly, and he visibly squirms there on the floor at the thought of it, face scrunching up disgruntled.
it could also have something to do with the hand swatting his face. he slaps at lucifer's fingers bopping his nose, murmuring a low stop that, but not loud enough to interrupt the speech his brother's on. because it's enlightening, unnervingly so. ]
Terrifying, yes. Being vulnerable, honest and unguarded enough to be truly seen opens one up to the worst kind of wound. [ it's beautiful and horrible all bundled together, and even that balance reflects the grand equation of all things living within the universe. as he talks, cas squirms around, shuffles his feet along the floor as his torso inches back until he can jam the ball of his foot against lucifer's hip, shoving him and his rude hands away. as far as cas can tell, he's just cartwheeling on through his happy bubble space. the conversation carries on despite it. ] Istredd's certainly spoken as if he knows all you are and embraces it.
[ without having any traction, he can't really push lucifer anywhere, so it becomes something more like kneading and jabbing toes at his brother's side idly while they talk about love and existential dread. ]
Love, then, is acceptance of all facets of a person, believing even their worst faults necessary to the whole, beautiful composition of them. [ he is not calling lucifer beautiful, clearly there is another person on his mind, castiel's voice distant and eyes somewhere on the ceiling. that does seem about right. dean's done plenty of questionable things, and castiel's always defended him implicitly. cas destroyed sam's mind, lied to and betrayed dean, fucked up more times than he can count, and yet dean still trusts him. but perhaps that's just family, not love in the sense he might hope for. a pause, and he comes back to the conversation squinting over his feet at lucifer. ] Is it better to have it than not, knowing it might crumble or end in disaster, do you think?