( At some point along the way, his eyes squeeze themselves shut. At some point along the way, his heart begins to bleed — the painful-sweet ache of getting exactly what you want, the feeling of something healing. The way things hurt when they're good.
He remembers sitting in the bunker, in the vacancy. In the empty space Cas left behind. How that moment stretched, and stretched, and stretched, and how he lingered in it. How he never wanted to leave it. How he wanted to drown in it, how part of him wanted to end there, too. To just stop, to never move on.
The hand print on his jacket.
The cruel stab of hope when Cas's name showed up on his Caller ID. The cruel stab of hope when Bobby said his name, in heaven. The cruel stab of hope every century in that alternate universe.
The emptiness that swiftly followed behind each of those moments.
We belong here, together.
He presses his forehead to Castiel's.
And they stay there. For a long time. In this moment, this new moment, this better moment — not of something lost, but of something gained. They stay here longer than he was allowed to stay in the bunker. Just... standing, and breathing, and being, and holding on to one another.
And it's enough for him to at least begin to consider that maybe this is something he gets to have, for as long as the both of them can manage to stay alive here. This is their second chance, and god damn but they're not going to waste it this time. )
i think we can maybe call this one wrapped?? unless u have anything more!!
He remembers sitting in the bunker, in the vacancy. In the empty space Cas left behind. How that moment stretched, and stretched, and stretched, and how he lingered in it. How he never wanted to leave it. How he wanted to drown in it, how part of him wanted to end there, too. To just stop, to never move on.
The hand print on his jacket.
The cruel stab of hope when Cas's name showed up on his Caller ID. The cruel stab of hope when Bobby said his name, in heaven. The cruel stab of hope every century in that alternate universe.
The emptiness that swiftly followed behind each of those moments.
We belong here, together.
He presses his forehead to Castiel's.
And they stay there. For a long time. In this moment, this new moment, this better moment — not of something lost, but of something gained. They stay here longer than he was allowed to stay in the bunker. Just... standing, and breathing, and being, and holding on to one another.
And it's enough for him to at least begin to consider that maybe this is something he gets to have, for as long as the both of them can manage to stay alive here. This is their second chance, and god damn but they're not going to waste it this time. )