text | un: robert.plant

[righteously]

So we're all just gonna ignore the whole 'getting pooped out by a dragon' thing?

whoever owns the giant chicken with the bow tie, I'm gonna deep-fry that bitch

3 minutes is not long enough to shower off egg membrane, that's freaking disgusting okay
just flat-out unhygienic, period
gross

the first time I hear somebody jerking off in a hammock I'm gonna set it on fire

this place sucks balls

as you were.

Comments

[mylawn]

Some of the people here are all right.

[spacedicks]

2 tours on MREs + army base food in between
then when i finally got leave and a starbucks, fucking aliens popped in to fuck shit up
they put every mcD's and in-n-out thru an intergalactic trash compactor
so like 3 years? 4? sans fast food

[ congrats, dean is informed of the apocalypse (of earth #56784543789). luke's here to bridge all the gaps you need. ]

bro im telling u in a shithole like this just be grateful lunch isnt soylent green

good to know dr griffin's a rations thief tho

[spacedicks]

cheeky fuckers have to roll their own joints

[wittingly]

remind me to show you something unbelievably cool next time you swing by engineering

( perhaps soon, in fact, to help him out with one giant robot.
tl;dr he can magic his joints rolled now suck it )

[wittingly]

I don't, actually
I was about a month away from it when the guests showed up
Thanks for rubbing salt in that painful, heartbreaking fact of which I have yet to recover
I feel like spending months in the year 2512 working at an engineering firm earns me an honorary doctorate at this point

he'd eat his own food, that's a terrible business model

[spacedicks]

that's rough buddy
like actually rough no sarcasm
sorry bout ya, man
youll always be the best most doctory doctorate in my heart even if you dont have a bowtie

wtf is the point of being a chef if you cant eat ur own amazing food
like why???

[wittingly]

That piece of paper would have been really nice to have at the end of the world

Would have made for nice kindling.

[righteously]

nobody likes a story topper

( but also Wtf my dude are you ok )

[righteously]

You wanna namedrop anybody?

[spacedicks]

nobody likes a first world problems whiner 🤷🏽
you said if id gone as long as u i wouldnt be slandering
so have i?

[ not at all but ya sure ]

[righteously]

I went to hell for 40 years, but you're coming in real close

( nOBODY TOPS THE STORY TOPPER )

[spacedicks]

hell??
i know i just said alien invasion but dude
thats sus

pls explain

[spacedicks]

yo dont over hype
i better have actual trouble believing how cool it is
omw

[wittingly]

;)

[righteously]

made a deal with a demon
got a year to live
died
went to hell
4 months topside, 40 years downstairs.

[spacedicks]

no offense but that sounds like the stupidest gamble in existence
what was worth that deal?

[righteously]

my brother

[spacedicks]

want me to crayola color you one?
i'll even custom frame it, no charge

[wittingly]

If you do, I'll hang it proudly over my desk for all to see

[mylawn]

What, and do your homework for you?

[spalten]

Recreational drugs are an option if you want something stronger.

[ wow .... what is he a babysitter ]

And thank you. He's suffering in these conditions, but aren't we all.

[dissemblance]

Just so we're clear.

Female masturbation still okay?

（ look, she's absolutely trying to scandalize him. ）

[unwings]

[ the stillness doesn’t surprise, nor is it off-putting. it wasn't dean's surface-level smoothness with women that cas fell for (even if it does have it's own amusing appeal). The kiss alone, Dean’s initiation of it without prompting, is plenty enough reassurance of affection. The word/action balance with Dean’s always been heavily weighted to one side, and he understands what real communication looks like from him. dean's already spoken volumes in the ways that matter.

Perhaps it’s strange that Cas finds such natural ease in the intimacy, but he's never developed the same wariness of it that the brothers possess, dean in particular. More so, a certain fascination that’s turned to awe with the actual experience. What dean calls “a wreck” cas sees as beautiful, rare, a naked truth that he’s privileged to be trusted with. If he could pause reality, curl some protective bubble around the both of them, to allow Dean all the time he needs to quietly wait it out and let it process, he would.

Unfortunately, they’re hanging out in a dead lizard’s vegetable garden during acid-rain monsoon season so, not the best timing, but Cas takes what he can get. The entire clan of space people could fuck right off the edge of this new-earth at the moment, for all he’s willing to split his attention from the man in his arms.

The rawness in his eyes, the slightest tilt into the touch. It tells him more than dean could push past his lips, bringing on butterflies doing barrel rolls in Castiel’s stomach. He never thought they’d be here. That this could exist in reality, alongside all the rest of their tangled up complication and obstacles, like there’s only ever been room for pain and strife, suffocating out the possibility of more.

But this isn’t Chuck’s story anymore. Endlessly running, trying to outpace their fears, isn’t the only option here. That realization keeps filtering back in, the corners of Cas’s lips instinctively pulling to grin so much he presses his lips together, trying to school the giddiness from his features. 12 years with this emotion burrowed deep in his chest has felt like eons, waiting, oscillating between foolish hope and resigned acceptance.

Loving Dean was never really a choice. The minefield and baggage haven’t intimidated him. Frustrated, confused or irritated at times, but never frightened, and after the Mark of Cain, Cas doubts any level of corruption or hurt-inspired damage could smudge away these feelings. He’d give anything to allow dean an easier life, with warmer, kinder memories, yet that isn’t within his current power, or ethical code.

The words that come after, don't ever do that again, echo back to April’s apartment, and all the times he heard ‘just don’t get dead again’, but this one’s different. This one’s a deathly, desperate kind of serious, and it’s clear why. Guilt gnaws at Cas, for leaving like he did, and his eyes fall to the floor for a beat, mind chewing on the command. Telling him ‘i can’t promise you that and you can’t either’ isn’t acceptable. This tone isn’t a voice you argue with, and as firm as it sounds, what cas reads underneath is please don’t do that to me again.

Some cynical part of Cas had taken comfort in the knowledge that Dean losing him - it wouldn’t be like losing Sam. it wouldn’t completely destroy him, he would mourn and move past it, even if that mourning took far longer than anyone would’ve liked. He’d thought. He’d told himself. Taking in the man before him now, it’s clear Cas was, once again, entirely and embarrassingly wrong in his assumptions.

He hears it, underneath the firmness and grit - If you go, I go. Cas can’t know what grief Dean went through after his departure, but it’s clear now how deeply it wounded him. For a man so pained by abandonment to watch his closest friend say “I love you, and goodbye forever”, both offering something precious and telling him he’ll never have it in the same breath... Okay, yeah. He gets it.

A warm hand finds a home over dean’s heart, palm flat against his chest, and cas stares down at the connection, as if he could look straight through the flesh, muscle and rib cage at the organ itself, judge how it beats and the relative health, where the cracks and fault lines lay. ]

I won’t. [ Cas tells him softly, sincerely, finding Dean’s eyes. They’ve made these claims before - no man left behind, we don’t make deals, whatever, but they always end up there eventually. Perhaps that was Chuck’s manipulation, or perhaps they’re far too comfortable with sacrifice, rarely truly acknowledging the cost of it on those left behind (you assume you won’t have to see it, or be around to watch later). They have to change, someday. May as well be here, now. ] If you won’t.

[ we both stop sprinting to jump on the grenade for the other. Dying for a loved one is relatively easy, he’s done it several times by now and found nothing truly difficult about it (until the last one, that is). Living and being present for those who need you there, and hurt for your loss, is maybe a new concept for them both. Perhaps they have to force self-worth on the other by holding their own longevity hostage. Maybe that’s how this works.

Or maybe dean’s about to be much more angry. Cas can only give him the truth, not dictate how he feels about it.

It’s in admiring the shifting colors and glow of dean’s soul that something new suddenly catches his attention, and cas can’t believe he didn’t notice earlier. Then again, he’d been pretty distracted. ]

Wait, do you —

[ pausing, cas pulls back a half-step to pan his limited human vision out, hands lingering on his chest and bicep to twist Dean partly to the side. Right there, arching over his back and extending across his shoulders - bright, ethereal wings.

For a single, horrifying second, castiel’s terrified that he’s looking at Michael-Wearing-Dean, until he studies the aura. He knows what looks like dean winchester, and how very far it is from his older brothers. No, these new appendages are possession free - all Dean’s own. A new and utterly baffling discovery, that leaves Cas blinking like a confused fawn. ]

Dean, do you have wings?

[righteously]

( I won't if you won't. That's a hell of a deal, isn't it? Of course there's a flair-up in him that wants to protest, a two-second gut instinct that says it's different and he deserves-- that Dean has to white-knuckle and shove down. If they're making a deal here, they're making a deal. He's so, so friggin tired. It has to stop somewhere, sometime. Why not.

He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even nod, but the shape of his mouth pulling into an unhappy, reluctant line is about as close to agreement as Cas is likely to get here in this olive vegetable garden.

And then Cas goes from Titanic to Brokeback Mountain in the span of a second, pulling Dean around to the side in a way that gets him instinctively grounding in through the heels. It's on his lips to say woah, now, not on a first date--

But the question wipes away his words. If he could go five minutes without being thrown for a loop today, that would be fan-freaking-tastic. The prickling awareness he's got of that weird ethereal space behind his shoulder blades makes them twitch in a way he can't even really feel exactly, and when he twists back it's to look at Cas like he's the one with new appendages. Sprouting from his neck, maybe breathing fire.

He's not a stupid man. His gut starts to sink because it knows what that means, even if his head's stubbornly refusing to process it outright. )

Yeah, but you knew that already. Because of New Amsterdam.

( Said slowly and firmly, as though spelling it out might, through sheer force of will, stick the memory in his head. )

[unwings]

[ Castiel's eyes narrow, less suspicion more intensely pondering, lips parting when he concludes that no, that does not make any sense upon further inspection, and tilts his head at him. ]

What're you talking about, Dean?

[ New Amsterdam, New Amsterdam? There's multiple problems with that sentence and Cas is pretty sure it's not just a him misunderstanding the world issue again. ]

I haven't been to old Amsterdam in decades, at least.

[ What happened to it and why did we need a new one and when did they have anything to do with it? There's a New Amsterdam in New York state (the colonizers were not very creative, were they), but they've never taken a case there, that Castiel's aware of. Maybe it's another reference he doesn't get, but even after frolicking through his Metatron gifted mind palace of pop culture and coming up empty handed, deep dread begins to sink in.

it couldn't be that easy. of course it couldn't. making out in this olive vegetable garden and going on their merry way, holding hands and taking dinner dates like one of Sam's romcoms. That simply wouldn't be their lives. there has to be some kind of complication, and castiel's bracing to hear it.

his grip on dean's shoulder curls in tighter, some symptom of the fear this, dean, will all be stolen away in another second, and cas turns his attention to the wings. his fingertips trace lightly around the edge of where they attach to the shine of dean's soul, trying to wrap his head around a (part?) angelic Dean Winchester, sans possession. the how and why are unfathomable to him at this point, but he's mesmerized. the concept of dean with wings had always been tangled up with Michael, he'd never put much thought into it.

they're quite beautiful, actually. it's seamless, how natural they sit on his back, as if they'd always been there. part of him wants to spend the next few hours inspecting, just to drag his hands through them over and over, though that fear-ridden, dreading part wants to demand what did you trade to get these? divine power doesn't come for free, not to humans. dean will explain, he's reassuring himself. though the troubled frown refuses to budge from his face, Cas keeps his focus intent on these new wings, searching them for anything that sets them apart from average angel wings (mostly just enchanted by them attached to this human boy he feels so strongly about). ]