[ dean waffles between fulfillment and shame in a baffling struggle cas is silent audience to. who is here to judge him for it, he wonders, but dean himself is clearly critic enough. the whole experience of it sheds more light on the man he's already known dean to be, and cas disperses out through his mind in quiet understanding. it is what is it, it's dean's own struggle, a facet of the man he is, the burdens inextricably wound up in the virtues. it's his alone to tangle with.
if he ever pushes past that barrier of shame, all cas offers is his for the taking, but if not, it remains the same. deep down, inside, here, seconds are eons, and they have eternity. this is only prelude. ]
I'm here.
[ the words echo in the back of dean's mind, not so much jimmy novak's voice as it is colors, emotions, etching on the inside of his skull. a familiar feeling - the scent of holy oil and coolness of an angel blade against dean's palm, the glimpse of short, fluffy, dark hair and a tan trench coat from the corner of his eye. he makes himself known as passenger.
dean's own words pass through his lips, flesh obeying him as it always has. bystanding during possession is new and foreign for cas, but witnessing how dean operates from the inside out is well worth the adaptation. ]
Whenever you're ready, I'll start.
[ it'll be intense, a part of him warns. chained to a comet. there's nothing quite like diffusing your being into wave lengths that lattice through the interwoven planes of space and time. angel flight is a wild, interdimensional ride. even with dean's wings being primarily corporeal, cas doubts the actual process will be much different.
in shorter words, hold onto your butts, kids, shit's gonna get freaky. ]
no subject
if he ever pushes past that barrier of shame, all cas offers is his for the taking, but if not, it remains the same. deep down, inside, here, seconds are eons, and they have eternity. this is only prelude. ]
I'm here.
[ the words echo in the back of dean's mind, not so much jimmy novak's voice as it is colors, emotions, etching on the inside of his skull. a familiar feeling - the scent of holy oil and coolness of an angel blade against dean's palm, the glimpse of short, fluffy, dark hair and a tan trench coat from the corner of his eye. he makes himself known as passenger.
dean's own words pass through his lips, flesh obeying him as it always has. bystanding during possession is new and foreign for cas, but witnessing how dean operates from the inside out is well worth the adaptation. ]
Whenever you're ready, I'll start.
[ it'll be intense, a part of him warns. chained to a comet. there's nothing quite like diffusing your being into wave lengths that lattice through the interwoven planes of space and time. angel flight is a wild, interdimensional ride. even with dean's wings being primarily corporeal, cas doubts the actual process will be much different.
in shorter words, hold onto your butts, kids, shit's gonna get freaky. ]