( It's an understatement to say Dean Winchester isn't used to intimacy, particularly of the physical kind. Real intimacy; he's had sex with more partners than he can remember, let alone count. 98% of the time there wasn't a scrap of intimacy to be found there. The few times he's had it were either genuine (Cassie, Lisa -- though Lisa presented her on set of complicated problems in that regard) or malicious, wielded like a tool against him. False visions of his mother delicately stroking his face, Amara preying on it to coax him into compliance.
Setting aside the fact that him and Lisa felt more like both of them trying to will something into being, she was a decade ago -- and still only one of less than a handful throughout his entire life. He's never gotten used to it, he's never really learned what to do in these moments, he can barely even grasp them when they're happening. Usually, and now is no different, he stills himself in a way that might seem passive. It's not stiffening the way an abuse victim might out of a lingering bad association; it's far more akin to being afraid of making the wrong move and sending someone running -- not that he knows it. Not that he's consciously aware of it, not that he can really think when it's happening.
It's like there's an empty basin in him, and it so rarely sees water despite being desperate to be filled that all he can do when he finally gets it is drink it in.
In other words, it's gonna take some work to get him to reciprocate with any kind of natural ease. Now, his only real outward reaction is a gentle parting of his lips, a raw look in his eyes -- only if you know what that looks like, a tip of his head just a little to accommodate the touch, and an unconscious tightening of his hands where they've settled at Castiel's sides. Gripping maybe a little too hard, but Cas can take it.
His heart hammers wildly in his chest, his lungs gently squeeze with every new place his lips land, with every shift in the tracing of his fingertips. He's a little bit on fire inside, and he can't breathe. Another difference between him and that man he'd been in the aerie: that guy grew up with love, and could express it to his fullest potential. It's not gonna be like that here, at least not for a long time.
You didn't make an easy choice here, Cas. He's got a minefield of issues and baggage in every other aspect of his life, this is no different.
Cas finally pulls back and Dean's throat works, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down some of the sensory overload to try and wrangle himself back under control. You devastated the man with a kiss and twenty seconds of tenderness, the dude's a wreck, it's pathetic, sorry buddy. He does, at least, manage to get his shit together relatively quickly once he's put on the spot. Manages to find his voice, thick and a little croaky though it may be, so he can offer up an incredibly lame: )
Hey.
( This is not the brand Dean likes associated with his romantic life. He strongly prefers to put off the vibe he's more like riding a mechanical bull than crying in a rowboat.
And sweeping in at the heels of all that, the crushing re-realization that Cas died. That he's here now, but that he--
A firmness takes root in him, something a little too desperate to be steely, hard-edged but pleading -- and yet, no less unwavering and unquestionable in his order. )
Don't ever do that again.
( The closest to this he's ever sounded was that decade ago, coincidentally. Lisa and Ben, every scrap of their memories of him wiped clean, Sam in the passenger's seat saying Dean, you've pulled some shady crap before, but-
If you ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again I will break your nose.
The deeper sentiment is: if you go, I go. Otherwise, you're not saving him from anything, just because his heart's still beating. )
no subject
Setting aside the fact that him and Lisa felt more like both of them trying to will something into being, she was a decade ago -- and still only one of less than a handful throughout his entire life. He's never gotten used to it, he's never really learned what to do in these moments, he can barely even grasp them when they're happening. Usually, and now is no different, he stills himself in a way that might seem passive. It's not stiffening the way an abuse victim might out of a lingering bad association; it's far more akin to being afraid of making the wrong move and sending someone running -- not that he knows it. Not that he's consciously aware of it, not that he can really think when it's happening.
It's like there's an empty basin in him, and it so rarely sees water despite being desperate to be filled that all he can do when he finally gets it is drink it in.
In other words, it's gonna take some work to get him to reciprocate with any kind of natural ease. Now, his only real outward reaction is a gentle parting of his lips, a raw look in his eyes -- only if you know what that looks like, a tip of his head just a little to accommodate the touch, and an unconscious tightening of his hands where they've settled at Castiel's sides. Gripping maybe a little too hard, but Cas can take it.
His heart hammers wildly in his chest, his lungs gently squeeze with every new place his lips land, with every shift in the tracing of his fingertips. He's a little bit on fire inside, and he can't breathe. Another difference between him and that man he'd been in the aerie: that guy grew up with love, and could express it to his fullest potential. It's not gonna be like that here, at least not for a long time.
You didn't make an easy choice here, Cas. He's got a minefield of issues and baggage in every other aspect of his life, this is no different.
Cas finally pulls back and Dean's throat works, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down some of the sensory overload to try and wrangle himself back under control. You devastated the man with a kiss and twenty seconds of tenderness, the dude's a wreck, it's pathetic, sorry buddy. He does, at least, manage to get his shit together relatively quickly once he's put on the spot. Manages to find his voice, thick and a little croaky though it may be, so he can offer up an incredibly lame: )
Hey.
( This is not the brand Dean likes associated with his romantic life. He strongly prefers to put off the vibe he's more like riding a mechanical bull than crying in a rowboat.
And sweeping in at the heels of all that, the crushing re-realization that Cas died. That he's here now, but that he--
A firmness takes root in him, something a little too desperate to be steely, hard-edged but pleading -- and yet, no less unwavering and unquestionable in his order. )
Don't ever do that again.
( The closest to this he's ever sounded was that decade ago, coincidentally. Lisa and Ben, every scrap of their memories of him wiped clean, Sam in the passenger's seat saying Dean, you've pulled some shady crap before, but-
If you ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again I will break your nose.
The deeper sentiment is: if you go, I go. Otherwise, you're not saving him from anything, just because his heart's still beating. )