deernet | text; un impala67

[ if he's saddling a horse and coming for Cas (and ice cream), he can't text at the same time. ]

Not specifically. That kid Eddie - he took some, he's got the same stuff. Said it might be dangerous for other people to touch. He was gonna look at it under a scope. I just know it's ugly as sin and smells like friggin' flowers.

[ It's a shame you can't hear Cas grinning, Dean. But maybe you can. ]

Like flowers? Mm... Interesting.

[ That's adorable? But Cas hasn't heard what the other bloodtypes smell like, only what they look like and can do, so that doesn't narrow it down. Dangerous... ]

How is it ugly? Does it look like flowers also?

[ He knows it doesn't, but the image of Dean bleeding flowers... It's too good. If only Cas had any artistic talent at all. ]

[ He can hear it a little, and regrets everything he just said. ]

No, it doesn't look like flowers, Cas. It's green streaked with red. It's disgusting.

Vileblood. That's... dangerous, yeah. Your blood can be used to create poisons.

[ Which is inconvenient, considering how much Dean tends to get himself hurt. No wonder everyone around here wears gloves. It's a fashion Cas might need to get into.

But still, he doesn't like the way Dean's talking about it. ]

"Green streaked with red" can be used to describe roses about to bloom also, Mister Flowerblood.

That's what it's called?

[ Makes sense. What was it Eddie had said...

Maybe it's 'cause we're sinners or whatever.

Yeah, that's probably it. It's obviously tainted, whatever the hell it is - vile, poisonous, putrid and sickening. Ugly like his soul; like the horrible, twisted things he's done to blacken it. The wounds are so deep there's no true healing -not really - to be done. They're raw, puckered, ugly festering things that he's earned. His selfishness cost billions of lives - is there any redemption to be found for him?

No. ]

What about yours? [ Forget the venom that runs in his veins now; he'll have a private freak out about it later. He's more worried about Cas. ]

[ In the pause that follows, Cas can almost hear Dean's brooding self-loathing. In fact, he can hear Dean's voice, his words, specifically, saying how his vileblood is "obviously tainted," and "vile, poisonous, putrid" and "sickening. Ugly like his soul." Vivid, terrible words he hears in Dean's voice, and the farthest possible thing from the truth. Cas's silence is an equally loud, projecting rebuttal of the opposite.

Maybe it isn't loud enough. ]

Dean...

[ He chides, but leaves the argument lie at that, because it's an old one, and he'd rather fight about it in person. So he sighs, lets his argument be known at that, and allows the conversation to continue in the direction Dean proposes. ]

Paleblood. It glows white in the moonlight. Used for summoning Pthemuerians and, uh... causing "visions" and trances, apparently. The LSD of the blood world, flowing in my veins.

[ If he sounds proud of that you better fucking believe he is. Now, to find out how to get high off his own blood... ]

[ Vivid, terrible and true. Convincing Dean he isn't a corrupted, corroded hunk of useless shit isn't a feat anyone will be achieving anytime soon.

Baby steps. ]

How do you know all that? [ Dean got as far as I'm a fucking monster, how wonderful, and that was that. He sincerely doubts his blood is 'good' for anything, not with the way people have been looking at him, like they know. ]

[ He's a beautiful, thorny flower, but as long as he stays alive, self-esteem is, sadly, secondary. ]

Would you believe a raven took me to its very loquacious god? Because that is exactly what happened. ...Or my own blood is kicking in. But, either way, my mind has been thoroughly expanded.

[ Dean squints down at his orb, like he's trying to see through it, to see if Cas is high as a kite (maybe off his own blood, which is trippy as hell) or if he's being deadass serious. ]

Sure sounds like it. [ But it also sounds...about right, because from what Dean has seen of his, it's pretty fucking vile. ]

Wasn't a god we need to shank, was it? [ Man, those were the days, when life was just ganking a pagan god or two that was turning humans into their personal chew toys. ]

[ There's that intense silence again that Dean is so fond of, and yes, though Dean can't see it, Cas smiles a little wider at the implied (vividly, loudly? This blood may be good stuff after all...) accusation. He is, in fact, flying high. But not any higher than normal, and that god thing is mostly true. Cas clarifies. ]

A Pthumerian called Never Mind. One of Julia Sodder's kind, so whether you want to smash that egg or not is, as ever, my fearless leader, your call.

[ If Dean wants to go around killing what seems to be a generally helpful Pthumerian, it's not like Cas wouldn't help him do it. Love's a bitch. ]

{ Christ. Dean is a little annoyed, brushing it off as he usually does when it comes to Cas, grinding his teeth a little because of course he's high, that's what Dean basically trained him to do, and he's no better, because all he wants to do is find a bar and get a fucking drink - art some point. Soon.

He's as useless as anyone else around here, apparently. ]

So you'd just let me go try an' fuck up a Pthumerian and let me get my ass murdered. Classy, Cas.

[ There's no convenient Dean voice running commentary in Cas's head to explain why Dean's suddenly in a shitty mood, but it isn't hard to guess. Or ignore in favor of being shitty right back. Falling into an old, familiar rhythm, Cas drawls his answer. ]

It's the least I can do, considering your whole plan to die by running alone into a forest full of monsters didn't work out.

[ Not what he was planning on today, not what he wanted today, because he's on his way to get said asshole, but here they are all the same. It's nothing less than he deserves. ]

I was looking for a place for us to live, but I guess you'd rather stay in a motel with little Sammy forever with me dead in the fucking underbrush. You're welcome, by the way. The princess suite is yours.

[ There's more bedrooms than before, which is kind of nice. Means they all get one which is a shocking new development, especially after what they'd become accustomed to before. There's also the creepy basement which is, naturally, unchanged. But there's a nice attic loft that Dean figures can be his; it's small, full of books and the scent of pine, something soft amidst the chaos. Peace, maybe. A place to draw inwards, where no one can really see him. ]

I'm almost there. Be ready.

[ There's a lot he could say to that, try to reason with Dean about not doing shit alone, ask why he's upset, talk it out. Instead Cas pulls a pill bottle from his pocket and dry swallows a refresher of liquid happiness. And if Dean hears the pills rattle in the process, well, it's not like he could be in a worse mood. ]

Ready and waiting to be swept off my feet.

[ Literally, as he waits exactly where he's been waiting, sitting against the stone wall beneath the very large red bloodstone above the entrance to The Red and letting himself be distracted by people-watching all the party types and new arrivals as they come and go. ]

[ He could, actually -- be in a worse mood that is -- but he doesn't bother replying. Instead, he just throws the damn orb in his bag, ignores further messages, frustrated and angry - both at himself and at Cas, though truthfully neither party has done anything inherently wrong. Not this time. Nothing out of the ordinary, though Dean's knee jerk is to leave Castiel's ass standing there, but that isn't what he does.

Instead, there's the distinct sound of horseshoes on cobblestone as Dean maneuvers his horse through the streets, looking for landmarks and signage, until he stops outside The Red, ignoring the crowd, because he doesn't care about them, at all.

Maybe he shouldn't care about anyone, period. It was certainly easier before.

Dean stops in front of Cas, but doesn't look at him, instead looking around, making sure he doesn't block the flow of traffic, in whatever form it comes. ]

C'mon then.

Edited 2021-09-08 02:42 (UTC)

[ In another world, Dean cuts an imposing figure leaning off the side of a jeep with a gun strapped to his thigh and a cold expression. This world, however, isn't as kind to the killer persona Dean tries to project. It just looks handsomely dashing, riding up on that horse, and Castiel grins wider as he obediently stands, brushes down his loose and recently acquired black and gold kurta, and looks up at Dean with empty adoration. ]

My prince charming.

[ Despite the words, Cas neither waist or expects to be helped up onto the horse. He walks over, and after meeting Mr. Ed's eyes for unspoken permission, he grabs ahold of the horse's back and pulls himself up to sitting behind Dean. ...And then rolls his hips forward a little to, you know, make sure he's settled. ]

Are we picking up Sam?

[ That would be a crowded ride, but if it means Cas waits at the motel or finds his own mode of transportation, well... Blood is thicker than water. He's used to taking both the metaphorical and literal backseat where the Winchester brothers are concerned. ]

[ He'd hold a hand out, but he's a little aggravated with his angel, so he doesn't, just keeps his eyes trained on their surroundings, makes sure they're not on target to be ambushed or killed or...whatever. Worse, maybe.

Bonus - Cas remembers how to get on a horse. Will he remember how to get down? Remains to be seen. ]

No. [ The answer is clipped and short, leaning to smooth a hand over the horses head, taking the reins up in his hand to guide him back in the direction he'd been coming from. By then, the house will be a lamp location so it may not matter, though Dean may still insist on coming. ]

Sammy's fine. I'll get him when he's ready. [ When he's done inking himself or something, apparently. ]

[ "When he's ready" sounds like an awful lot of trust, or something else Cas doesn't know about. Probably the latter. Dean doesn't seem upset or concerned, so Cas doesn't bother to question and potentially harsh his buzz. ]

Alrighty.

[ As the horse picks up its steps, Cas's hands link into Dean's beltloops, and he holds on for the trip. He considers striking up conversation, more about blood and gods, beasts and nightwalking, but it seems smarter to keep his already wandering focus on the trip, just in case. He watches their surroundings as the cobbled streets give way to rougher paths and the trees become gnarled and twisted on the way towards Ache. Of course Dean's cabin would be in the middle of fucking nowhere. It's "safer" that way.

When they finally arrive (with the monsters and beasts along the way all having kept their distance, for the moment), it's not the cabin Cas expects to see. He leans away from the hunch of Dean's back, stretching to get a better look as the building creeps into view. It's different, alright. A far cry from the broken-down shack of a place Cas remembers from Deerington. But Mr. Ed's steps slow down, and sure enough, there's the Impala parked in the grass out front. ]

I see you splurged for the upgrade.

[ If this really is the same cabin as the one Dean had in Deerington, but better... There had to be a cost. There's always a cost. Cas wonders if Dean knows what that payment is. ]

[ There's a lot going on in Dean's mind, but it's jumbled, irritation and relief and frustration mingled into garbled nonsense that's pushed into a box and locked tight. Instead, he focuses on keeping them both on the horse, on thinking about making the cabin a lamp location, setting his little creepy guys down so that this isn't the kind of trip they have to make frequently. Porting here would be far easier, and by the time they get back, that's what he's decided to do. ]

Guess I did. I dunno how it happened, but it's a damn step up from what we had before.

[ Wait til Cas sees the inside. Even if he's annoyed with the angel, he's still oddly proud of the place, and there's some small childish glee buried deep that it's all theirs. A real home, one that's not falling in around their heads this time. ]

[ Cas doesn't need to read Dean's thoughts to be on the same page. "Wait until you see the inside." He's already imagining it. ]

If it's got a bathtub that's actually big enough to bathe in, you'll never get me to leave.

[ He leans a hand back on the horse's ass but makes no move to get off. Because he will absolutely break his ass if he tries. Look, he's getting better, but the dismount is still a wild trip he's not eager to take. Instead he strains his neck looking. ]

The, uh... greenhouse? Where's that little number?

There's a few bathtubs, I think you'll be satisfied.

[ He'll slide down first, because he remembers last time, how Cas looked like he might fall off instead of getting down properly, and holds up a hand to help him down. ]

It's out back. I'll show you.

[ Castiel is well aware, not only of how cruelly indifferent God and the universe can be, but how easily people model themselves in His image of callousness. It's so very easy to be cruel.

Maybe the gesture Dean makes of offering Cas a hand down safely to the ground isn't the grand, sweeping act of kindness Cas sees it as and is merely avoiding the inconvenience of dealing with a potentially injured addict, but he smiles warmly like it means the world to him, anyway, and is slow in letting go of Dean's hand after. ]

Thanks.

[ Doesn't even begin to cover it. ]

[ Dean may be cruel and callous and mean, rotten and twisted and blackened from the things he's done, but there's still pieces of his old self left down under all the rot. He won't let Cas fall any farther than he's already crashed. Never again, if he can help it.

The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he's going to smile, fingers lingering and brushing over his palm, the annoyance fading into something softer. ]

Course. C'mon. [ He twines his fingers casually, like they do this daily, like it's old news, and tugs at Cas, pulling him off to the side of the house, on the little dirt path that leads out back. ]

I already put your plant in it. Hope that's okay.

Edited 2021-09-09 15:57 (UTC)

[ A lot of people seem to be upset to be here in Trench. It makes Cas wonder if maybe he should be, too. Maybe this world really is the terrible, dark thing they seem to think it is: bloody, rife with monsters, keeping them from a better, kinder world. But when Dean is pulling him along with sure, calloused fingers and a warm, beating heart, it's impossible for Cas to want to be anywhere else. This place is just as much Heaven as the last one. More, he thinks.

And it has a greenhouse. Cas's smile turns a little feral as he picks up his steps, passing Dean without letting go of his hand, to tug him along. ]

Mm... You can put my anything in your anywhere, baby. It's all okay with me.

[ He grins at Dean as he tugs him into the crowded little room of a greenhouse. It's small and very bare, save for the burning bush of an immortal pot plant. It's too dry and not much warmer than the air outside. Not at all humid yet, but it will be. Cas can already see it in vivid colors, and it's a real permanent thing, another home of Dean's that he's been brought to and offered a space inside, despite all expectation. And like the squirming little parasite he is, Cas moves into the space eagerly, leaning back like melted wax onto the nearest wooden table and pulling Dean by his hand— and then hands‐ in close like this is all just a very warm, very kind dream. Thank you, Julia. ]

This is incredible. Thank you, Dean.

Edited 2021-09-09 18:41 (UTC)

[ A greenhouse, and a quaint little raised garden right beside it. Picturesque, if not for the blood pollution and monsters that lurk in the shadows. Dean thinks he read something about flower gardens in this particular district - it might be a way to get into some kind of trade. It's not like either of them are any strangers to adapting to their surroundings. They spent five years in an apocalypse tryin to survive.

Sure, it was drug and alcohol and sex fueled, both with their worsening addictions and vices - but they adapted. Cas grew his own stash, Dean helped with the gardens, showed them how to plant potatoes in buckets so the goddamn things didn't take over the whole garden. He helped build the raised beds, till the land. He may not have known everything, but he knew some stuff - and he learned a lot in the bits of downtime he had between missions and supply runs.

He lets Cas pull him along, not bothering to jerk his hand away, because...why bother? No one here cares. Sam doesn't, and he sincerely doubts little Sam gives a single fuck about it. That kid has far more pressing issues than who Dean happens to be with.]

Maybe one day I'll fuck you in it, when you've got it more filled out. Think of it as our own personal sauna.

[ Great way to clear those pores. ]

Nah...Don't thank me. [ He didn't do it, he didn't build this. He'd planned to, back in Deerington, so maybe all of these upgrades had to do with his intention. ]

text -> audio

audio it is

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