( ah, that might be something they end up having in common. the desperation that drives a broken and battered being, a wilted soul, when there's so much farther to go and no energy left to expend, it can only be that push and pull of desperation that does any good at all. for him? it's always the adrenaline. the rush of blood pounding in his ears when there's nowhere left for him to run, when everything in him is screaming for him to stop, slow down, breathe or it's all going to come to an abrupt, painful end.
he doesn't know how to do anything but push. doesn't know when enough is enough and when to stop before it all breaks, and it's something that's followed him from earth to the pit, will follow him back out – and though he breathes a little easier when they finally break away from the pull of hell, his surroundings ripple and shimmer, and he finds himself transfixed by this private little pocket in timespace that is … well.
far too beautiful for any word he could have willingly put to it.
tugged free of the protection of the angel's grace, he can't help but to look around him, eyes scanning the endless depths of the floor's shimmering surface, the purples and blues and endless light swirling together to make everything seem to tilt on its axis, briefly making his whole world shift and turn completely upside-down.
what the hell –
he thinks it more to himself than the angel, and when he doesn't get much of an answer to his question, his attention turns back to him, hesitant concern written all over his expression even as he stays nestled securely in his embrace. he feels more than sees the pulse of castiel's grace as it works on healing him, and there's no surprise to him at all that the other needs a damn break. a vacation. do angels take vacations? is that a thing for them?
never mind. clearly, there are more important things to think about than angel vacations.
dean settles back into his previous position, the whole of him almost curled in on itself as he allows the quelling, calming quality of castiel's personal space seep into him. they're not in the clear, yet, are they? he shouldn't be allowing himself to relax as he is, but of course he would still be largely useless were trouble to come find them again, and it has him grumping all over again that he hadn't been able to do anything at all to assist the angel on their ascent from the pit. ( he tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter, that he wouldn't have been any match at all against even the lowliest demon in this state, but it doesn't mean that he can't still be grouchy about it.
that's kind of his lot in life, anyway. )
so. he settles, and he waits, the thrum of castiel's grace surrounding him and lulling him into a more secured sense of ease. and he waits for the angel to come back around. )
no subject
he doesn't know how to do anything but push. doesn't know when enough is enough and when to stop before it all breaks, and it's something that's followed him from earth to the pit, will follow him back out – and though he breathes a little easier when they finally break away from the pull of hell, his surroundings ripple and shimmer, and he finds himself transfixed by this private little pocket in timespace that is … well.
far too beautiful for any word he could have willingly put to it.
tugged free of the protection of the angel's grace, he can't help but to look around him, eyes scanning the endless depths of the floor's shimmering surface, the purples and blues and endless light swirling together to make everything seem to tilt on its axis, briefly making his whole world shift and turn completely upside-down.
what the hell –
he thinks it more to himself than the angel, and when he doesn't get much of an answer to his question, his attention turns back to him, hesitant concern written all over his expression even as he stays nestled securely in his embrace. he feels more than sees the pulse of castiel's grace as it works on healing him, and there's no surprise to him at all that the other needs a damn break. a vacation. do angels take vacations? is that a thing for them?
never mind. clearly, there are more important things to think about than angel vacations.
dean settles back into his previous position, the whole of him almost curled in on itself as he allows the quelling, calming quality of castiel's personal space seep into him. they're not in the clear, yet, are they? he shouldn't be allowing himself to relax as he is, but of course he would still be largely useless were trouble to come find them again, and it has him grumping all over again that he hadn't been able to do anything at all to assist the angel on their ascent from the pit. ( he tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter, that he wouldn't have been any match at all against even the lowliest demon in this state, but it doesn't mean that he can't still be grouchy about it.
that's kind of his lot in life, anyway. )
so. he settles, and he waits, the thrum of castiel's grace surrounding him and lulling him into a more secured sense of ease. and he waits for the angel to come back around. )