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[venatoris]

[ x

the pile of coins more than compensates for all the liquor they drank, and Dean slides off his stool and wobbles a little before reaching for Cas' arm, giving it a gentle little tug once he's paid.

Spoil him, Daddy. ]

C'mon. We -- gotta find a place to sleep tonight.

[messenger]

I'm sure there are plenty of unspoken for buildings near the edge of the city.

[ he heads toward the door with dean in tow. but when they exit into the relatively cool evening air, twilight descending on the city with the sun's orange glow rising up from the horizon line, rather than head off down one of the main streets, castiel pulls dean around toward the back of the bar where the alleyway lies in warm, shadowed darkness. ]

[venatoris]

Probably. And we're used to squatting.

[ Dean stumbles along with Cas, not expecting to head around the back of the bar, a hand on Cas and the building for stability. ]

Where we goin'?

[messenger]

Our accommodations aren't going to be any more comfortable than a back alley.

[ and probably no more or less private, either, if they're squatting. frankly, he doesn't see that it makes a difference, and the city's edge is a long walk away.

a thrill rushes through him, a wave of adrenaline washing up from his stomach. it makes him sway, and he drags dean a little further, away from the bar, (which is in a somewhat open area with a large space behind it not particularly suited to their needs) between a row of rather large buildings standing nearby, and into the darkness behind them. there are no noisy, buzzing machines, no overflowing dumpsters, no piles of litter or discarded, broken beer bottles; and when night falls, the city will be pitch black save for the leaping torches lining the streets. no light pollution here. the air is fresh, and the night is young, and he's about to do something he's never done before.

castiel pushes dean back against the warm stone and meets his eyes in the purpling light. ]

Just here should be fine, I think.

[venatoris]

...You wanna sleep in an alley?

[ That's, you know. New.

Still, he lets himself be dragged further along, confused but accommodating. It's weird being in a city like this, without lights so damn bright you can't even see the stars. Refreshing, save for the lack of toothpaste and mattresses. Still, they're getting by, and Dean's mind wanders until he's pushed against the side of a building and he looks at Cas, blinking slowly, pupils blown in the low light. ]

This is where you want to hunker down?

[messenger]

No.

[ he stares at dean for a drawn out moment. he doesn't seem to get what's causing dean's confusion here. it's strange— all of this. but mostly the feeling that keeps leaving him to hesitate, as though they haven't done it once already. it was different, somehow, when they were back there, back in tikal; tender in the wake of a rather revealing conversation. like, maybe, it meant something, even if it was just supposed to be a straightforward offer.

this, on the other hand— is sex purely for its own sake. his eyes drop, mapping dean's body beneath his shirt. his hands follow after, both sliding from his shoulders down the front of his chest, to rest on his stomach. dean is warm to the touch. ]

That's not what we're doing.

[ and then castiel kneels and starts tugging dean's fly down. ]

[venatoris]

[ He watches Cas closely, reaches to touch his cheek again, drag the pads of his fingers down over stubble, slow, feeling the texture of his skin. His thumb rubs over Cas' lower lip, smoothing as he watches Cas' hands slide from shoulders to belly, then his fly. ]

Oh.

Right here?

[messenger]

Yes.

[ his lip catches against dean's thumb, and his hands pause. he watches dean watch him, then opens his mouth, drawing his tongue from one corner to the other so that as it passes it touches dean's thumb where it rests.

yes, right here. unless, of course, dean doesn't want to. ]

def turning nsfw up in here

[venatoris]

S-someone might see us, [ he says, a little dazed, drunk from both the moment and the booze, Cas' warm, pink tongue over his skin.

Fuck. ]

Do you care?

🍆💦

[messenger]

No.

[ that's as predictable as anything else, isn't it? he places one hand on dean's wrist to hold it there, mouth damp where his thumb is still pressed. ]

I'll stop if you ask me.

🍑

[venatoris]

[ his heart speeds up, breathing turning uneven and he sets his lips, thumb pulling Cas’ lower lip down before gripping his chin. ]

We don’t have any… stuff.

[messenger]

Actually, I bought something on our way out of Tikal.

[ it was on a whim, really— but they had to pack supplies for the trip, enough food to keep them for the few days it would take to get there by foot (since dean wasn't willing to let him fly them both except for a few short, treacherous stretches, and even if he had been they still would have had to stop to eat).

castiel takes his bag from his waistband without breaking eye contact, pulling the drawstring open and reaching inside to feel around until he brings out a small, glass bottle. in this light, it's difficult to tell what's inside, but if dean holds it up after cas passes it over to him, he'll see that it's filled with a pale yellow oil.

he was thinking ahead. perhaps it was presumptuous— he was a little embarrassed when he got it, and he's a little embarrassed now. an angel shouldn't be thinking so much of these things.

but they both know he's never been a good angel, so what does it matter? ]

why you lookin at him like that cas

[venatoris]

Oh?

[ Dean let's his hands fall to Cas' shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing, smoothing over skin and savoring the heat that radiates. ]

You did that all sneaky. I didn't even know you did it.

[ He holds it up and peers at it, gives it a little shake as his lips curl into a smile. ]

So, right here in the alley, huh.

hi eldritch they prolly gon fuq

[venatoris]

[ Minutes are hours and hours are days and years and decades. Time stops existing, yet exists in lifespans ahead of him, stretched out on a road before him, endless, in perpetual longevity. Grief is a funny thing, twisting and knotting, psyche spread too thin, like butter over toast. Every step taken is lifetimes, scuffed and bloodied boots crunching over rabble and ruin, the endless hellscape in front of him reminiscent of his soul.

The blade still drips in his hand as he crawls through collapsed archways and smoking ruin, drifting between crumbled home after home. He looks and he looks, but he cannot see.

The head remains, his last triumph; he holds it still, fingers twisted around broken skin, blood staining his hand, crusted over skin, embedded under filthy nails.

He walks, he watches, he calls; over and over and over he calls. ]

Castiel?

;*

[messenger]

[ ironically, despite the fact that castiel is the one who died— he's having a much less stressful time than dean is. it isn't a particularly enjoyable time. probably a little worse than neutral. on every other occasion that he's come back from the dead, he's had his grace fully topped up. not so, this go around. he's got a little mojo, guttering like a candle flame, enough to let him avoid the necessity of breathing when stumbling wearily through heavy patches of incense. but it's not good for much else than that. he's tired, and his feet ache from wandering around the city through shin-deep, dirty water, and he's cold. he rubs his arms and tries not to shiver, careful as he picks his way through the rubble, afraid he might injure himself and be unable to heal it. the thick cover of incense and the smell of ozone in his nose (the scent the incense happens to take for him) is muddling his sense of direction, and he has yet to find his medallion.

if he could find it, he could use it to find dean.

as it is, he has to settle for searching by foot. he has a vague memory of where he lost it, which was in the same place he first transformed, after he fled from dean's side. but after the destruction wrought by the monsters that climbed up out of the earth like hell itself had cracked open, it's difficult to discern the landmarks. ]

[venatoris]

Cas?

[ He keeps calling moving through the city, heading towards their home, the one he knows is in ruins on the ground, their few things buried under rubble that he'll have to claw out with ruined nails and hands.

The daze settles in and he tries not to breathe too deeply, stumbling, clutching the monsters head, his trophy kill. ]

Cas!

[messenger]

[ there's a moment where he's stumbling through the rubble when he thinks he's begun to hear dean's prayers— a not unfamiliar situation for him to be in, circa purgatory. this is too much like that place, with creatures running amok worse than most anything that even hell could produce. although luckily not necessarily more powerful than the worst they've encountered, because he succeeds in sneaking past every one he sees with very small and strategic applications of his power. if only he had his blade—

but after some time it occurs to him, as it grows in volume, that he's wandering in the direction of dean's voice. prayer has no directionality, of course. so it's around then he realizes he's been hearing dean out loud, and that he's gradually picking his way toward him.

he would run, if he could; or yell. but he's too tired, and who knows what creatures are lurking? ]

[venatoris]

[ Dean clearly doesn't give a fuck about monsters; his shouts echo off whatever is left of the buildings and he climbs noisily over rocks and rubble, shouting Cas' name, praying at the same time, loud and thunderous, screaming in his head. ]

Cas! Are you here? Cas!

[ Again and again - if there are any poor locals about, he corners them, snarls, demands where's the angel?! before letting them go when they don't know, and continuing his search. ]

[messenger]

[ castiel, almost entirely by chance, finds the ruins of their home. as much as you could call it that. they'd only lived there for two weeks, although in all truthfulness it's the longest he's lived anywhere that wasn't heaven. dean also isn't taken to settling in one place. so it stands out, of course. he sorts through what rubble he can, but eventually has no choice but to sit and rest. at least now he's climbed up out of the water, and he can crouch and shiver with his arms wrapped around his knees in peace. he thought he might find his coat, but there's no sign of it. he doesn't remember that he ate the thing.

dean's calling grows louder, and he stands. stumbling down, he nearly falls into the submerged street, dirty water splashing up his bare thighs. his clothes were destroyed in the cacophony, and there's nowhere left to procure replacements. ]

Dean—

[ shit. he can hardly raise his voice.

he has to stop. lean against a wall, one of the last two standing of a nearby building, and catch his breath. ]

[venatoris]

[ He hears the splashing more than he hears Cas call his name and he sloshes in that direction, moving as fast as possible, rounding a rubbled corner before he sees Cas standing there, naked as can be, and Dean runs at him, head still in hand, soaked through and freezing but determined to get there. ]

Cas!

[ He's there leaning against the wall and Dean nearly slams into him, wrapping his arms around Cas head and all, dragging him close and holding him tight crushed against his body. ]

[messenger]

[ dean comes upon him so quickly he hardly has time to react. his lips part, maybe to say something— and then dean is crushing him in his arms, the smell of rot wafting up strong from the head dangling from his fingers. castiel wheezes, gripping weakly at dean's sides, and presses his face into dean's throat in a desperate attempt to escape the stench of monster flesh.

he never realized quite what a powerful effect scent can have on the body. ]

[venatoris]

Oh my God, Cas...fuck.

[ He holds him so close, face in Cas' hair, breathing him in, nose buried. He could cry, might already be, clutching Cas close to him. ]

I thought I'd lost you again, I couldn't find you.

[messenger]

Dean...

[ the longer they stand there like this, the more of castiel is weighing down dean's arms. he's a bit dehydrated, and he hasn't eaten, well, since he can remember. his voice comes out slurred when he finally finds the strength to speak, but it's waning. ]

Didn't meant to—

[ to leave. to die. not this time. dean needs to know that. ]

[venatoris]

[ Finally, Dean drops the head he's holding, choosing instead to hold Cas, keep him upright in Dean's arms. ]

I know, I know, Cas. It's okay. I told you, I'm not mad.

[ He isn't sure if Cas remembers, but it's repeated anyway, to solidify. ]

You're here. You're back. That's what's important.

[messenger]

[ at least when dean drops the nasty thing it means it's slightly farther away from his nose. he gives a groan of exhaustion, fingers tightening at his sides before they loosen by necessity. it's strange, how basic need seems to supersede even thought— he can't help but wonder if dean still has some food on him, from what they grabbed before they fled. ]

I'm... weak.

[ he spits the word from his mouth distastefully. but he can't bring himself to pull from dean's grasp. ]