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[messenger]

[ he hums in thought. ]

My true form isn't comprehensible to the human mind. There are certain aspects of it that don't translate to three-dimensional space.

[ and describing it in a way that would make sense to dean is pretty much impossible. when he says incomprehensible, he means incomprehensible. ]

[venatoris]

[ angels are aliens. Dean can't be convinced otherwise. ]

Huh. That just makes me even more curious.

[ Ugh man he'd love to see. Big lizard Cas with eyeballs was cool as hell, but he'd really enjoy seeing Chrysler building Cas. Maybe one day. ]

[messenger]

Well, I can't manifest that way now, even if you could see it.

[ he's not sure what would happen, his grace this low. would he die? or perhaps he can't leave this body at all. the idea of being trapped in it makes his stomach dip with something like fear, and he gingerly begins to extract himself from dean's grip. he can't deal with all this soft touching right now. he needs more than that. but he doesn't know how to communicate this, and if he tells dean to stop, he'll just take it personally. ]

If you're not going to rest, perhaps we should go.

[venatoris]

No, let's not push you.

[ Cas needs to conserve his grace, get better, recharge his batteries. It's kind of strange that he's pulling away from Dean, though; so far, he's seemed to appreciate the touches Dean gives him.

He doesn't want to overwhelm or do something out of line, so he lets his hands drop, glancing behind them at their stuff on the rocks. ]

I don't think our stuff is dry yet. You sure?

[messenger]

I don't know, Dean, I just—

[ he wants something, and he doesn't know what he wants, or if there's any way to get it, and he's coming out of his skin about it. that frighteningly distant expression is beginning to turn to distress, although maybe only dean would notice it for what it is. he swallows and lifts his hand, touches his throat— like he's checking to see that it's done what he wants.

he thought sleeping might have helped, but it only seems to have made it worse; his dreams of heaven are still stark in his mind, bright white walls and bright white lights. pulling him out of the present. ]

[venatoris]

[ Dean can tell he's distressed, and he reaches for Cas' shoulder again, his grip firm this time, fingers digging into skin. ]

Hey, Cas -- what's wrong? Something's up. Talk to me.

[messenger]

I—

[ hard to explain when you're going through it, but he'll do his best. dean's fingers digging into his shoulder help a little. he looks down at his hands, at his knees. his skin is pale with the chill. ]

I haven't felt like this since I first took this vessel. Except it wasn't so distressing, then. What's wrong with me?

[venatoris]

[ Dean's no expert on mental health, at all. To even try to tell Cas what's wrong with him wouldn't go well in any capacity.

Still. ]

I dunno. You were a big monster angel, and now you're back in a human body, needing to do human things.

[ you're gonna have to shit that food out eventually, Cas. ]

Maybe you're, uh. I dunno. Still stuck in angel brain? And it isn't translating to human body brain.

[messenger]

[ he is going to lose his shit when he realizes he has to deal with that particular bodily function, pun intended.

but it's not a bad theory.

it might not be the all there is to it, but dean is probably right; it's an even worse gap between the experience and the expectation than it would have been under normal circumstances, because now he's all but human. it's difficult to comprehend. he places his hands on his knees and digs his nails into the skin just to feel it. it feels strange, the way it pinches. pain isn't really a familiar sensation. ]

I'm not a monster. But you might be onto something.

[ now, the real question: ]

How do I make it stop?

[venatoris]

[ Dean thinks he might have a vague idea how Cas feels, though it isn't exactly the same. He felt weird after hell, like he didn't belong, like it wasn't really him riding around in his meatsuit. Just on autopilot. ]

Monster was the wrong word, sorry. Just meant you were big and in a totally different mindset than what you are right now.

[ As far as how to make it stop, that's something else entirely. ]

Distraction, maybe?

[messenger]

Like what? I'm not strong enough to hunt.

[ he can stab something as well as anyone, grace or no, but he's still exhausted and running on empty. or almost empty. he's eaten and slept just enough to keep going, and hopefully make it to the next city, but fighting is out of the question.

hopefully they don't run into anything that gives them any real trouble. he knows that dean could deal with most of these creatures. ]

[venatoris]

No, not hunting.

[ He leans against the rock, one arm loosely around his own waist, other hand thumbing idly at his jaw. ]

We could have sex.

[messenger]

[ it should probably be telling— and later, although who knows how much longer later, he'll realize just how stupid he was—the way he reacts. not outwardly, because his expression only shifts a little, although there's certainly something in the way he straightens up. but he can feel his heart leap in his chest, the sensation he's come to identify as hope. and something else, something he doesn't yet have a name for. ]

Do you— Do you want to? Do you think that would help?

[venatoris]

Cas, man, [ He chuckles, running a hand through his hair almost shyly. ]

There's never a time when I don't want to.

[messenger]

[ well.

he should know that. it doesn't occur to him that the sentiment could in any way apply to him specifically, but dean's always been proactive in that area. it's a bit different, with them. because they're friends.

he licks his lips, adam's apple working. ]

I didn't want to presume. You're tired.

[venatoris]

I didn't wanna 'presume' either. You're pooped. You just came back. I didn't wanna push.

[ But he thinks about Cas and that sweet, sweet angel ass of his all the time. All the time. ]

[messenger]

You can always ask, Dean. I'll tell you if I don't want to.

[ maybe, maybe not. but it's the thought that counts. ]

Where did you put the bag—

[venatoris]

[ He grins, expression lighting up his face as he laughs a little. ]

Okay.

[ Not a wise idea to believe that, probably, but he's going for the bag anyway, scrambling to his feet and dragging it from around the other side of the rock where what little sun there was would hit it. ]

[messenger]

[ their little bottle of oil is cracked and half empty, but it's there— the stain it's going to leave in dean's bag is fabric-ruining, but them's the breaks. at least they have some lube. cas is watching him, craning his neck— a little too obvious about how enthusiastic he is, suddenly. he would do a lot to escape this sensation of unreality, but it's more than that. ]

Did you find it?

[venatoris]

[ With a grunt he gets back to his feet, using the rock for stability. ]

I got it, yep. We're lucky this didn't ruin our clothes.

[ He comes back around next to Cas and holds the little cracked bottle up. ]

[messenger]

That would have been unfortunate.

[ but his eyes are following that bottle like a dog eyeing a steak. as much as he tries to be subtle, his tells have to be obvious to dean by now. ]

[venatoris]

[ He isn't subtle at all, and Dean can't help but smile wider. Kinda makes a guy feel good about himself when you've got someone eyeing the lube like that. ]

Yeah it would've. How you wanna do this? Can you stand? Can bend you over, let you hold onto the rock. Or I could get you on your back and give you grass stains all over your pretty skin.

[messenger]

[ castiel swallows, his throat working. he reaches his hand to it again, fingers brushing his adam's apple, glancing at the wide rock outcropping, and then at the grass, and arrives at a midpoint: ]

I could get on my hands and knees.

[ the name for that is "doggy style". ]

[venatoris]

You think your knees will be okay?

[ Dean is already moving towards Cas, sinking back down beside him and reaching to cup the back of his neck. ]

God, I want you.

[messenger]

Um. Yes?

[ he does not yet know the pain of kneeling too long, but he'll learn, and then learn nothing from it. his face flushes when dean continues to speak after he's sat down next to him, and with some hesitation, cas reaches out and touches his wrists. it still feels strange, like it isn't him who's doing it— like the world is tilting ever so slightly every time he moves with deliberation. but he wants dean to know that he wants this too.

he wants him to know.

he nods twice, squeezing his fingers around his arms a little too tightly, and then he's shucking out of the shirt and coat. he's a little warmer now that he's dry, but mostly he wants to feel dean's heat against his back. then he climbs onto the grassy floor of the earth, knees bent, fingers splayed through tuffs of green scrub. looking over his shoulder at dean.