[ 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). ]
no subject
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
olivevegetable 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). ]