heavenonearth | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ getting to know sam winchester has been a pleasure.

he's young, but he's smart, and more than that he is engaging, and that is something that too many full-time, serious students sorely lack. castiel doesn't consider himself particularly entertaining, blames his lack of friends on it rather than his own introverted tendencies, but the point remains that his peers can be so terribly boring that it's all but mind numbing to spend time around them. research labs are enough to make him want to suck his own brains out with a straw, sometimes, and that's saying something, considering his threshold for entertainment is really rather low. and there are some of them who aren't so bad, really, but it isn't like the movies make it seem, that's for sure.

still, castiel is a graduate student. he's quiet and serious, so climbing the social ladder isn't terribly important to him, but even still, sam winchester is a breath of fresh air, smart and clever and funny, with a winning smile and an incredibly active mind. interacting with him is a privilege.

it had started as a tutoring job. sam had asked for a little help understanding his physics course, and someone had directed him to castiel, who had graciously, if uncertainly, agreed to do it. he doesn't fancy himself a teacher, and he certainly didn't think he'd be very good at it, though after a stiff and uncomfortable start, sam had begun to warm to him, and castiel found that he was glad of it. he'd worried that the gap in age might have been a deterrent, but sam is friendly and more mature than any undergrad he's ever known, and they get along well, swimmingly even now that castiel has begun to open to him more, unfolding himself bit by bit as their friendship develops into something more comfortable, something less about classes and more about simply spending time with one another.

they study together twice a week, on fridays and tuesdays. sam doesn't need much help with physics anymore, so castiel brings his own books and notes, works on whatever it is that he's writing or researching while sam buries himself in biology or organic chemistry. it's nice.

it's friday today, when castiel arrives at the little house sam rents off campus, and he tightens his overcoat against the brisk spring breeze as he moves quickly down the block; it's not far from the campus, so castiel always walks. he's rounding the corner when he feels his ~~shitty ancient~~ phone buzz in his pocket, and finds on it a quick message from sam: Picking up pizza, hope you like extra cheese. The garage door is unlocked, go ahead in, I'll be back soon. once castiel arrives, he finds the tiny one-car garage not only unlocked, but flung open wide, filled up by a broad but sleek black classic car that castiel doesn't recognize, loud music blaring from an old, dented radio resting on the workbench. the hood is up, but castiel can't see anything past it, can't see anyone until he's stepping inside the garage itself, dark brows drawn tight, his mouth a moue of disapproval. someone is bent over the engine, obscured by the raised hood of the car, and castiel is bewildered, confused - sam hadn't mentioned company. he certainly hadn't mentioned noisy company. he clears his throat. ]

Excuse me.

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[ it had taken some time for him to grow accustomed to dean, but somehow they have hit it off far better than castiel could ever have expected. they have little enough in common when it comes to hobbies, but there's an odd sort of understanding between them, a synergy that is rare between people to begin with, and even more rare for someone like castiel, whose social function barely outstrips a toddler's.

but he is.. comfortable around dean, and that is a strange and impossible and precious thing. dean is genuine. he's smart and he's tough, but there's a warmth and kindness in him that never ceases to amaze him, and beneath all that tough-guy, beer drinking pool shooting overblown masculinity there is a gentle softness the like of which he has never known before, and it wasn't really until he began to see and understand that side of dean that he really began to open to him. that, he thinks, is far preferable to the hard cover he tries to maintain - all that machismo, the leather and the car and the tough-guy voice - sure it's all attractive enough on the surface, but it's all the things beneath it, dean's warmth and affection, how genuinely he cares about people.. that is truly what castiel finds praiseworthy, what has him caught on dean every moment he is near him.

it is a gift, this friendship that he has built with dean, this ease in his company.

still, he can't help but feel a little guilty for dragging him here. this was supposed to be he and sam, and while he will always enjoy dean's company, castiel knows that this isn't really his thing. he's tagging along to be nice, because sam's too sick to come, and castiel had offered to cancel, to stay behind, but with such short notice there's no chance of their money being refunded, and sam had known how very much castiel had been looking forward to this, and there won't be another meteor shower again 'til july, and it won't be as good as this one so cas should just shut up and go. still, he'd hesitated, guilty as a loyal dog until finally dean had rolled his eyes and piped up, offering to come along in sam's place to keep him company, and he'd brook no damned argument.

castiel had still been apologetic when they'd left, promised sam he would tell him all about it, and book the hotel for the july shower the moment they walked in the door, and sam, of course, was satisfied.

it'll be nice, he thinks, to spend some time with dean, even if it might be a little distracting, because he's been mooning over dean for months and he knows it, has done nothing about it, won't do anything about it beyond suffering through it, and that's fine. being close friends with dean - that's good enough. that's plenty. and castiel wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that.

the drive is comfortable and easy, several hours to cherry springs state park in upstate pennsylvania, one of the top twenty best night sky reserves in the entire world, certainly the best on the eastern seaboard, and castiel has been pining to go for years. he'd meant to pack his telescope and star charts and books, but in the end he'd left most of them behind and brought only a single atlas. visiting with dean will be very different than it would have been to come here with sam, and maybe it's best if he keeps things simple. not because dean couldn't understand it, of course, but because he's just not as into it as he and sam are, he's doing castiel a favor, here, keeping him company here, and the least castiel can do is be personable, not keep his eye glued to the lens of a telescope while ignoring dean all night.

they check in, and as promised, castiel immediately reserves the time for he and sam in july, and he's giddy as a schoolboy while they drop off their duffels and pile back into the impala for the short drive up to the viewing area. the parking lot is relatively full; meteor showers are in high demand for astronomy fans, after all, but the viewing area is large enough that they're easily able to find a spot at the crest of a small hill away from anyone. a thick blanket is spread over the grass, and castiel sits cross legged, his jacket still on to protect him against the spring chill, a half-empty beer tucked against his knee, his sky atlas open, the red light of his cellophane flashlight bleeding over it, but it's largely ignored.

instead he's tucked in near to dean's side, half-turned toward him and speaking rapidly, animated, his hands moving and his eyes bright. ]

Well no, it's entirely possible that Eta Carinae's collapse could certainly end the world - I mean, it's not likely, and even if it goes hypernova, chances are slim that it would affect us.. but, you know, you never know. There's a lot that we still don't know about the stars, and life is very fragile.

( generally speaking, doing something like this wouldn't normally be on or anywhere near the list of things he would choose to do with his free time, given a choice. he does like the stars, they've discussed this already, but it's true that he doesn't think as highly of them as sam and castiel do. they're pretty little dots in the sky, that's about all he knows – none of the science jargon behind it to explain the hows and whys behind giant, distant balls of gas, and he's more than content to stay in his blissful state of ignorance, thank you so very much.

it had been kind of cute, really, the thought of the two of them gearing up for one of their nerd dates. he's been thinking recently, maybe no more than a month by now that they're already starting to act like an old married couple, taking delight in the smallest things that any normal human being would tend to overlook without any thought to it at all – and sam, he'd been so ready for this trip that dean is pretty sure he'd packed his things and had everything ready to go a couple of days prior to leaving. which just makes it even more sad that he kid's been taken down for the count by something as simple as a stomach bug, too damned nauseous to do anything but lie in his bed and whine about how nauseous he is, how the world is spinning and would dean please bring him some diet ginger ale with exactly five ice cubes?

… that last part is an exaggeration, of course, but the song remains the same. and the look in castiel's eyes when he'd thought he would have to miss out on this trip? the way his eyes had gone all round and wide, and he'd tried to hide his disappointment, tried his best to reassure sam that there would be other times, other meteor showers that they could see together –

he's gotten close enough to cas in the past months that he hadn't wanted that disappointment to stay. and of course he isn't going to understand everything that comes out of the other's mouth when he goes for an explanation, or simply goes on rambling about a certain cluster or the like, but he can certainly appreciate the beauty of it all, the things in nature that gather together to make everything on their earth just a little bit miraculous.

so the drive is peaceful. pleasant. idle conversation slipping back and forth between small stretches of silence, and it's more than enough for him to just get out and stretch his legs when they check in, when castiel reserves the time in july for him and sam to come up for themselves – and at the top of that hill, blanket laid down, dean doesn't bother the little sigh of pleasure he gives as he lowers himself to the ground, unconsciously leaving very little personal space between himself and his resident stargazer. bracing himself on his elbows, stretched out and crossed at the ankle comfortably, and while he's listening to everything that castiel says, the high point of his amusement is, as always, the animated way the other talks about something like a star going hypernova. )

Isn't that what killed off the dinosaurs? ( he reaches for that half-empty beer can, takes a sip of it for himself even though the cooler he brought with them is well within reach – because the look cas gets on his face when he infringes upon little things like personal space and sharing cooties, it's all the entertainment he thinks he'll ever need, and …

well, it's kind of adorable. there. he said it. ) Some big rock smacked into the Earth and they all got turned into dust, or something?

[ all told, dean isn't a terrible stargazing partner. he enjoys the sky well enough, and castiel does his best to stick to subjects that he think will interest dean without delving too far into the boring science jargon - he sticks with fun, cool stuff like, you know, giant exploding stars that could spell the imminent demise of all life on earth. it's the best he can do to keep to a topic he thinks most people might find interesting.

still, he can't help but scowl a little when dean snags his beer, because the cooler is right there dean winchester. ]

Err.. no, not exactly. There are many theories surrounding the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event, and in truth we still don't know what happened, but assuming that the asteroid theory is correct, it certainly didn't turn them to dust. An asteroid that massive, striking the Earth, would have kicked up enough debris into the atmosphere to blot out for sun for years, potentially, which would have wiped out most plant life. The food chain collapsed, and not only the dinosaurs, but nearly all life on Earth would have deteriorated and died out. Less a Hollywood explosion, more a sad, slow, painful death.

[ .. he really can go on, when he wants to. for a man who seems so quiet most of the time, castiel really has it in him to blather, and blather, and blather, when he's really interested in something, and he rarely has the wherewithal to stop himself. bless dean for his patience, because he's often the victim of castiel's scientific spewing if sam's not around, or if dean asks a question that gets the ball rolling. he bites his lip thoughtfully, already forgetting the beer, lifting his eyes briefly to the stars, the bright strip of milky way above them, before lowering them to dean's face again, flushed and excited. ]

But if Eta Carinae goes hypernova, it won't be like that. It's a star, not an asteroid. It won't hit earth, it will explode in space, and it'll be so bright that it will light up the night sky, even 7500 light years away. In all likelihood we wouldn't be affected, our atmosphere would filter most of the radiation and gamma rays, but it's possible that it could instead burn away our ozone layer, leaving us susceptible to terrible UV radiation, which would also be slow, and painful.

[ castiel's hands spread wide, his eyebrows lifting and his eyes shining, a slow smile creeping over his face; he's a kid at a science fair, never happier than when he's explaining things like this, especially to dean, someone new, someone fresh. lowering his head, he drops his voice, almost conspiratorially, his eyes fixed on dean's. ]

But the real, wild possibility is the threat of a gamma-ray burst. We'd really be in trouble.

( ah, yep, there's that look. just the one he'd been thinking of. and if you think he's not going to grin around the mouth of the can as he brings it up to take a sip, still looking directly at cas as he does it? hoo boy do you have another thing coming!

but he does set it back down, right next to his knee where he'd gotten it, the tips of his fingers very briefly brushing against the fabric of cas' pants before he lets go entirely. resumes his previous position, lax but attentive as he speaks in almost-hushed whispers, the excitement barely contained enough that his voice doesn't carry beyond their personal space.

and really? he knows a tiny little bit about the theory surrounding the extinction of the dinosaurs – but he'd wanted to see what sort of reaction he would get if he said the wrong thing, given a bit of false information that needed fixing, and wouldn't you know that it sends him off in this tirade of a ramble in explanation, all but vomiting information almost too quickly for his tongue to keep up with it. his eyes are shining, and dean can't help but to grin at the way he leans in to whisper that last part, chuckling low and genuinely amused, rough and rumbling. ) A gamma-ray burst, huh?

( his mouth pulls to the side in a lopsided smirk, and he leans in the tiniest bit closer, eyebrows raised. )

Tell me about it. Talk nerdy to me, baby.

( DEAN FUCKING WINCHESTER YOU ARE INCORRIGIBLE. )

[ castiel doesn't know how to read that grin, never knows how to read it. he'd think dean was making fun of him, bullying him, if he didn't know better, but he still doesn't entirely understand why it is that dean lets him ramble on like this, but he does, he always does.

still, talk nerdy to me, baby - it's enough to have him flushing warm and hot, and castiel is thankful for the darkness to cover it, even if he's sure he's burning bright as a star himself. everything about dean is so.. disarming, and that stupid, slanted smirk has castiel's belly twisting uncomfortably, warmth tingling at the base of his spine. he promptly ignores it. ]

A.. um, yes, a, err, a gamma-ray burst--

[ he goes on, then clears his throat, pulling himself together to look into dean's face again. science. think science. don't think about dean's too-pretty mouth, or the way it sounds when he says baby in a voice that low, leaning close. ]

It's the brightest, most powerful explosion in the universe. That we know of, at least. You see, when stars die.. particularly, when very big, massive stars die, they collapse into black holes, or neutron stars, or something of the like. Sometimes, if that star is spinning very rapidly, when it collapses in on itself, its energy.. erupts out.

[ exhaling sharply, castiel's brows draw together thoughtfully, a deep crease appearing between them as he lifts his hands again and pinches together his index fingers and thumbs, as if he's pantomiming holding a golf ball, or a marble. ]

Imagine a grape between your fingers. If you crush that grape, hard and fast, what's going to happen? It's going to split, and its juice and guts are going to burst out of either end. The same thing sometimes happens to a star.

[ he touches his index fingers together, then draws them outward from one another in a straight line, pointing in opposite directions. ]

These concentrated jets of radiation are violent and deadly, they spring out of the poles of the dying star and fly hundreds or thousands or millions of light years into space, obliterating everything in their path. The energy required is absolutely staggering, Dean, there's nothing in the known universe more powerful, or deadly. It would be a literal death beam, frying our planet.

[ and he's.. excited about this. ]

( he would hope that by now, at the very least, castiel has learned that for all the little comments he makes, the expressions he gives, it's never out of any real malicious intent. he teases him, sure, but it's so endearing to hear him ramble on at length over something like stars that he almost can't help himself sometimes, or at the very least, doesn't bother trying to reel himself back in.

he doesn't see the way heat flushes over the rise of his cheekbones, but he practically hears it in the tone of his voice, and there's a sort of smugness in the curve of his grin as he briefly lets his eyes slide shut. as he gives himself a proverbial pat on the back for being able to rile him up so easily, so quickly, and over something as simple as a single word. two syllables. ( he knows that's what it is, has to be, because there's nothing else in that sentence that would have had any bearing on a reaction like that. ah, you predictable little nerd. )

dean breathes in, a slow and easy thing and lowers himself fully onto the blanket, linking his hands behind his head and maintaining his focus on the sky above, the soft glow offering just enough light to outline castiel's prominent features, the fire in his eyes and the firmness of his mouth as he delves yet again into a string of explanations. ) Black hole – I know that one. ( he turns his head, winks, laughs softly again.

and the way he describes it, it sounds … well, phenomenal. in a way that he's sure he can't describe under his own power, because he doesn't know the right words to make sense of it all, but that doesn't take away from the underlying information. sam might have been the one to initially break him into this whole science thing, but biology and astronomy are on two separate ends of the spectrum, and the way castiel talks about it all –

like it's the only thing he's ever known, the only thing he wants to know –

it's more than enough to keep him interested, to keep him rapt, even if he feels the need to chime in every once in a while with a quip or a comment to keep it all light. )

So a star-born death ray could mean the end of life as we know it. ( he sucks the inside of his cheek between his teeth, makes a thoughtful sort of noise that slips out between parted lips. ) Bitchin'.

What's the general shelf-life of a star these days?

Truth be told, it's a slim chance. All the gamma-ray bursts that we've observed have occurred outside of our galaxy, and it's unlikely that Eta Carinae will produce a GRB at all, and furthermore, its axis is currently tilted away from us, so on the off-chance that it does, we won't be in the line of fire. But things change.

[ an easy shrug. ]

Still, chances are something else will end us before a gamma-ray burst could.

[ an asteroid, climate change, nuclear war and self-destruction - there's a whole lineup waiting for the human race, and while castiel thinks that a gamma-ray burst could spell an incredibly spectacular end, chances are it will be something more insidious. but perhaps that's simply his own cynicism showing.

he settles down onto the blanket beside dean if only to keep perspective, lying on his side propped up on his elbow, his gaze focused on dean's profile and the reflection of the stars in his eyes, rather than the stars themselves, which is really a feat, truth be told. but he's enjoying his time here with dean more than he ever could have imagined. bitchin', dean says, and castiel can't help but grin in that shy sort of way, a soft laugh echoing in his throat; months ago he would have rolled his eyes and sighed. when dean asks yet another question, castiel is happy to pounce on it, like a dog on a bone. ]

Well, that depends on the star. Smaller, lighter stars burn their fuel more slowly, and live a long time, billions of years. The larger, more massive stars die more quickly, live a few million years at best. Live fast, love hard, die young I suppose.

[ the edge of his mouth curls up just so; that would be dean, if he were a star. just like eta carinae, big and bold and reckless, burning bright and exploding in a staggering burst. ]

Our sun is middle of the road. It's about five billion years old, and should live about another five billion. We'll be long dead before it goes.

( chances are, we won't be in the line of fire. there have to have been better ways to say that than to come right out with it, but since the moment he'd met him, dean hasn't known castiel to put things in a sugar coating. because that's not the kind of person he is, and that's one thing he really likes about him, because beating around the bush or treading lightly just so you don't end up hurting feelings isn't the way dean himself rolls. so. the blatant bottom line of it amuses him, even if he's a little disappointed at the projection.

more likely, the human race will be taken under by something far less interesting, far more redundant and mundane like global warming or another plague or radiation poisoning. the idea of being blown into not even the base molecules that make up his dna is a hell of a lot more preferable to anything boring, and if there's one thought castiel has gotten right so far – it's that he would vastly prefer burning out fast and bright and sharp than wither away to nothing. live fast, love hard, die young … yeah, that's dean winchester in a nutshell. no damned doubt about it.

he keeps right on grinning as the other settles next to him, casting a sidelong glance just to reassure himself that giddy, almost childish sort of happiness in cas' expression is staying well intact, and he hums out an almost-melodic breath, about as close to a purr as he's ever managed, just by dint of being incomparably comfortable. at peace. enjoying himself.

he feels bad, for a small second, for momentarily being okay with the fact that sam's falling sick is the entire reason he'd been able to come out on this venture in the first place. sure, it sucks for the kid, but he'll get his in july – so, of course that means dean is free to enjoy himself to the fullest, right?

up to and including enjoying more than just the presence of a certain space cadet.

… right? ) Five billion years … hell of a lifetime. ( he sounds almost wistful, like it's unfathomable to live so long, but then again he has to remind himself that they're talking celestial bodies and not human ones. there's a hell of a difference there. )

Anybody ever tell you you're kind of adorable when you start babbling all that science junk? ( he's casting another sidelong glance in cas' direction, eyes hooded, a half-smirk painted across the line of his mouth. ) Like a damn kid at Christmas.

[ there's no one that can make him blush like dean does, who can make his spine and knees turn to jelly with a smile alone, and castiel is entirely, painfully aware that it's simply because he's enamored with this arrogant, reckless, grating, warm, kind, devastatingly handsome man. it's enough to make a grown man indignant. castiel isn't used to behaving this way. certainly, he's an awkward sort, always has been, but he's always been relatively confident in himself, or at the very least very solemn and serious, not the sort to stammer and flush like an empty-headed teenager. ]

Err..

[ he states, elegantly, his eyes dropping away from dean's face, warmth creeping up his neck and into his face and ears again. ]

No, I'll have you know that no one has ever said that.

[ he finally answers, a little more strongly, lying full on his side with his head pillowed against his folded arm, his eyes lifting up to the glittering skies. the view here truly is spectacular. thousands of stars dot the night sky, and flung across it, a wide swath of glowing milky way like the arm of god himself encircling the globe, possessive and vigilant. castiel's voice softens. ]

It's just that I've.. always felt this way. Like I belong up there. Like I could fly into the stars and never look back. I love everything about it, everything about the universe, how great and grand and profound it all is.

( the moment he'd found himself fully aware of the effect he had on castiel, he'd made it abundantly clear to himself that he was going to use it against him nearly every moment that presented itself. not out of any sort of malice – far from that, really – but he's always been the pigtail-pulling type, that obnoxious boy on the playground whose only way of conveying that he liked you was to promptly and deftly push you into the mud. the charm that he gives over in spades is the first of the attacks, things like what he's just said rolling from the back of his tongue like warm honey, the glittering of his eyes something bright and infinitely inviting.

and it may just be that castiel's lack of in-depth experience with such a matter aids in how deeply it affects him, or he may just be that susceptible, but dean hasn't backed down yet, and he doesn't plan to. not in the slightest.

it may be dark, dim, but he swears he can see the flush of heat that seeps to the surface of the other's skin, painting him in shades of pink and red all the way to the tips of his ears, and it's so damned endearing that he can only have been entirely, one hundred percent honest with the admission of how cute he is when he talks science. it's distracting, in a way that has his stomach twisting pleasantly with it, giving a brief little flip-flop before it settles again and he pulls his eyes away from that wistful upward gaze.

but not before – ) Really? Nice to know I popped that cherry, then. ( dean don't ruin it. don't you dare.

but then he listens to the follow-up, everything that gives him away as someone that doesn't belong on this earth so much as above it, among those stars he covets, respects so much. it has him turning to look at him again, eyes softened around the edges as he regards him curiously, almost as though he were another being entirely. )

I don't think I've ever heard anybody that way about … hell, anything. ( he shakes his head. ) You're somethin' else, man. All that passion you've got in you. ( there's a pause, and he chews thoughtfully on the inside of his bottom lip. )

Sam would miss you if you ever got to go through with it, y'know. ( which, of course, is an offhand way of saying that he would, too – but you'll never catch him saying something like that out loud. )

[ unfortunately for castiel, he's not exactly accustomed to being liked at all, even platonically, let alone further, and the concept of kicking someone in the ankle to show them your affection is entirely lost on him. the few people he's ever been close with have always been more or less direct, taking from him what they wanted rather than waiting for him to come around and realize what they were after because for all castiel is razor-edge smart, he's inarguably obtuse when it comes to matters of the heart, more likely to pine for the rest of his life than ever chase the things he wants.

relationships, after all, are fragile, and castiel isn't like dean, he doesn't make friends easily, can't talk with people like others can. those friendships that he manages to build are precious gemstones to be guarded fiercely, to never be jeopardized by such trivial things as lust, no matter how handsome and devilishly shameless dean is. dean's like that with everyone. he's a natural flirt, a skirt-chaser, wild and free and certainly not someone that a guy like castiel would ever have a chance with. and that's fine. he's content just being dean's friend, simply sharing his life is a privilege, and castiel is thankful for it.

but god, he sure does make it difficult when he grins lopsided and says things like that. castiel promptly ignores it.

once dean's going on about passion, though, castiel's eyes lower to his face again, careful and steady. what dean calls passion, most have called obsession and abnormality. he'd learned to simply stop talking about it, to not bring it up unless he's asked directly, or if not, then to not expect to be looked upon as anything but weird. he's weird. he knows it. he's accepted it. he's always been weird, he will always be weird. beyond meg, dean is the first person to ever speak of it like it was something positive. ]

I would miss him too. [ he says, quietly, not really sure what to make of that, of what sam has to do with any of it. his eyes drop again, thoughtful and solemn, and he toys idly with the half-drained can of beer between them. ] Thankfully for him, that isn't possible. I won't be going anywhere.

( generally speaking, it's something that he should have grown out of at a much earlier age; but some things stick around even when everything else dissipates, and old habits die hard, so even if the natural flirtation is front and center most of the time, there are other little nuances that make their way into his mannerisms, things that might go unnoticed unless you know what you're looking for.

still, he's never been beyond chasing down what he wants, generally having more fun with the chase itself to allow it to go any other way – and if he's perfectly honest with himself, this whole playing coy thing he thinks he's getting going with cas is far more amusing than he'd thought it would be, especially considering he's pretty sure the guy has no idea at fucking all what's going through his head. that he's even remotely doing and saying certain things on purpose instead of playing them off as a simple slip of the tongue or a shift in a brain-to-mouth filter that doesn't even really exist.

dean winchester might not be the greatest at relationships, or even thinking about them, but some things are worth checking out even if they don't work out in the long run, and cas … for all his pining, his nerdery, his passion, it's worth at least poking around and testing the waters to see what it gets him.

he stretches idly, reaching for the beer can between them and purposely-but-accidentally brushing the tips of his fingers against the other's as he picks it up and drains it of what remains of its contents. he's sure he'll get another look for having done so, and he's looking forward to it, because it's just one more thing that endears castiel to him in the smaller scheme of things. ) How come?

( he keeps his gaze leveled on the solemnity of the other's expression, genuinely interested in what response he might get in explanation. if he's been reaching for the stars for so long, why be convinced that that dream won't ever be actualized? why try at all if that's the case? )

I mean, not that it's the worst thing to keep both feet on the ground. ( coming from someone that hates flying, well. that doesn't even count. ) But it kinda seems like a waste, y'know?

[ castiel definitely shoots him a withering glance for not only taking, but finishing the rest of his very own beer. he's not much of a drinker, to be honest, and when he does drink it's generally harder stuff, he doesn't really have a taste for beer. but he doesn't hate it, and he enjoys doing it with dean, it makes him feel included, it's something they can do and enjoy together.

he doesn't complain, only sighs and reaches for the cooler, pulling out a fresh can, which he presses into the palm of dean's hand, then a second one for himself, thank you very much. ]

Maybe. But I can't fly, Dean.

[ he says, because of course he's taking this literally, of course he doesn't entirely see where dean is coming from.

oh, but how nice it would be if he could, if the wings so painstakingly etched onto his back could unfurl and take him high and higher, away from this wretched planet packed with misery and loss and into the cosmos. he'd sail the stars for an eternity without complaint, and maybe, for once, understand the concept of home and belonging, feel at ease in his surroundings, in his own skin, things he has only ever known once, and all too briefly.

but he feels it a little with sam and dean, he thinks. he is comfortable around them in ways that are very rare for him, mostly, he thinks, because they accept him for who he is, they don't make fun of him, or try to change him, like his brothers always have, like his classmates and his peers always have. he tries not to read too much into it, tries not to take advantage of it because things like that have a way of falling apart, of ruining you. ]

( ah, there's that look. and as much as it might have been enough to make a lesser man feel guilty for having incited it in the first place, dean winchester is the kind of man that simply grins and takes it, that lopsided and easy sort of thing that shows more teeth than anything, wide enough that his laugh lines show just a little more prominently than they usually do and he's every bit the little shit that he's been accused of his entire life.

why do you find yourself attracted to this man again, cas?

the beer he's given is cracked open the moment it lands safely in his hand, and while he doesn't take a drink, it sits comfortably within curled fingers, a loose grip. of course castiel would take his comments quite literally, and it's enough to bring a rough, low chuckle from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. ) No, I mean like … ( he makes a vague gesture toward the sky with his free hand, like it should be more than obvious what he's trying to say. ) Why not be a real-life Buzz Lightyear? Space cadet? That'd put you up there, real easy. ( because of course he's going to reference a toy instead of a real person, because that's just where his mind takes him when he's trying to make a point, and he's pretty sure it'll be enough to get it across.

maybe. you never know, with this one. some things really do tend to go way over his head.

and, really, he never would have thought to change him. neither would sam, more perhaps he finds a kindred spirit in the way they share a passion for the unknown, but the fact remains that both he and his brother are a hell of a lot more receptive to this little wallflower with his head in the clouds than he might think they are. dean has never fancied himself a particularly judgmental person, but he has had his moments, and where castiel is concerned … nah, he can't think of a single thing he would change.

he likes him just the way he is. wouldn't have him any other way, really.

finally taking a sip from his newly-opened beer, his gaze climbs skyward again. ) 'Sides, doesn't matter if you can't really fly or not. You should always find a way to do what you really wanna do. Otherwise I don't think you want it bad enough.

[ sorry dean, he definitely doesn't get the reference; his parents never allowed him to watch fun movies growing up, or really any television at all. father was always very strict about what they were exposed to, and how they were allowed to spend their free time, and by the time he was old enough to buy his own television he was too old for children's movies, and never bothered to go back to them.

so nope. no idea who buzz lightyear is, but he does understand the context, and what it is that dean's trying to say.

castiel's eyes drop, and he spins the can of beer in his hand for a moment, idly, then lifts it to his mouth for a drink. ]

Well, I wouldn't say real easy, Dean.

[ he says, with a mirthless, throaty laugh. castiel's self esteem is surely better than it was when he was growing up, but going into space.. that's a feat, really. it's difficult, you have to be good, really good, and dedicated, and he will surely try his best but he's not going to hope too hard. ]

Someone.. once said something like that to me before.

[ he says, almost hesitantly; bringing up meg, even tangentially, even so many years later, is still so impossibly painful sometimes. definitely when he's a little tipsy, and stretched out beneath the stars, enjoying a quiet moment. he smiles, soft and aching. ]

But of course I'll try. It might not amount to anything.

( dude. you're never too old for kids' movies. granted, since he and sam were as far apart in years as they are, dean's exposure to the kid flicks of their youth counts for way more than he thinks it should – but there's nothing wrong with letting some fun into your life, especially when you're still young enough to actually enjoy things like cartoons for what they really are. ( and, so … maybe he'd had a thing for loony toons when he was younger. and that babs bunny … man, don't even get him started. )

but we digress.

it amazes him, sometimes, just how easy it is for the other to get that wistful look on his face – even when he isn't thinking primarily about the stars above his head. to lose himself in thought, whether of the past or present or even the future is enough for that look to flicker across his face, for his gaze to lose focus and, for the smallest moment, for him to lose contact with reality altogether. he sees it often enough that it doesn't surprise him so much anymore, but the tone of his voice when he finally speaks up again is something that has him hesitating in making any further comment, because castiel doesn't talk about his past like any normal person would. no stories about family, friends, early college life –

and that can only mean that it hadn't been the best time for him, that maybe something had happened that he doesn't want to remember, or that it's merely something better kept where the memories matter the most. dean can't fault him for that, that's for sure, and he doesn't press, even if he finds himself just the slightest bit curious on who else would tell him that his dreams are worth actualizing no matter the cost.

so – ) That's the spirit. Half-assed optimism. ( his grin is a bit tighter, if only because he finds himself treading lightly so as not to ruin the moment they're building here. he takes a sip of his beer, lets the taste of it linger on his tongue for a scant second or two before he swallows. )

You should listen to 'em, whoever said it.

Mmm.

[ castiel hums thoughtfully, still lost in his own mind, in his own memory, all the warm things tangled up with the painful things, confusing and bittersweet. distantly he's aware that dean is trying to be kind, that he's tiptoeing around what he's identified as a sensitive subject. for all dean sometimes seems thickheaded and obtuse, he really isn't, he's sharp and smart and very god at reading people, and reading atmospheres, and reacting accordingly. it's why it's that much more infuriating when he's being a pain in the ass, because you know he's almost always doing it entirely, one hundred percent on purpose.

he's thankful for it now, though, because dean never pushes too far, never asks for more than he is willing to give, and right now castiel isn't willing to give any more than he already has. someday, maybe, he'll talk about her. he hasn't talked to anyone about meg. not really. not in the ways that he should.

but he sighs as last, drinking from his beer and dropping his elbow, stretching out at last fully over the blanket, turned onto his back to watch the skies. a meteor flies overhead, a quick streak of light gone almost as soon as it appears. ]

At any rate, for now I can content myself with this. [ a beat. ] Thank you for coming with me, Dean.

( but you see, here's the thing – if it weren't completely, one hundred percent obvious that he was being a pain in the ass on purpose, you might take for granted the times when he isn't. he's never particularly malicious on purpose – even if he had been put into the bully category in his teenage years … and perhaps that first year of college, too – but of course he's going to have his moments when he has to show his ass, because it's a little too much like making life easy for everyone else if he were a constantly upstanding human being that didn't often get his kicks out of being a charming little shit.

keyword here: charming. and that makes it all bearable, doesn't it? of course it does. but of course he also knows when there are sensitive topics in the wind, has gotten a pretty good hang of being able to feel that sort of thing out given how touchy sam can be at any given time. about any given thing. he's learned how to tread lightly, even if he ignores it ninety-nine percent of the time, but he's gotten the hint that cas isn't going to let on to more than he's already spilled, and that's fine with him. there's still so much about him that he hasn't been able to figure out just yet, and if he's perfectly honest? that's … part of the fun of it.

cas stretches out completely next to him, and he pulls himself into a mirror of the other's previous position, raised up just so on his elbow, but instead of training his gaze on the miraculous show above, he's enamored by something else entirely, and it just so happens to be the wistful profile made by a dark-haired nerd.

… which means he almost entirely misses that thank you, and he starts just visibly enough that cas would be able to catch it out of the corner of his eye if he were paying enough attention, but we'll just leave that up to him. )

Hey, don't thank me. Sam's dragged me to a lot worse places than this. ( a huff of a laugh. ) A lot nerdier. Nah, this is … this is nice. I'm glad you didn't cancel it.

[ castiel is, as a rule, terrible about picking up on dropped hints, terrible at knowing and understanding when someone is flirting with him, or god forbid, interested in him. for all of his smarts it's certainly a shortcoming. he's blind to it. blind to people.

but still, when he turns his head just enough to glance up toward dean, to look into his eyes, he can't help or deny the quiet electric pulse he feels, the way it passes through him like a current, sharp and sudden, coursing down his spine.

castiel would never presume to think that anyone was into him, least of all someone like dean winchester, the notorious playboy, who chases cute girls, confident, sexy girls, who could have anyone he ever wanted with just a glance. but the way dean is looking at him now, eyes dark for how little light there is to see by -- it's enough to make his body tighten, a heat rushing in him that pools in his gut, suggestive, imperative. thank heaven it's dark enough to hide the warmth in his face, and thank heaven he's lying on his back for all that his knees have gone weak.

he's a hopeless wreck, and dean winchester has so fully and completely ensnared him. ]

.. me too.

[ he says at last, his voice low and quiet, and it seems impossible to disguise the longing there, the way his breath stills and words left unsaid crowd his tongue, caught behind his teeth. thoughtlessly, castiel's hand moves over the grass, fingers wrapping loosely in the lapel of dean's leather jacket, so close he can catch the scent of it. ]

( that's … something he's come to figure out on his own over the past couple of months. granted, dean's flirting is about as open and gratuitous as the buffet at a western sizzler, but ever since he'd really picked up on the fact that it might end up being reciprocated once it gets through cas' thick skull that he's not doomed to remain pining forever, he's been trying to make it a little more … personal. geared more toward the nerd himself rather than just some passing pretty face with a name attached that he won't remember.

so far, it hasn't paid off. and he can only do subtle for so long, because excuse him if that's not his bag and he would much rather get right to the point, but that sort of thing seems even more like it would be lost on him, and he's been redoubling his efforts to get his point across. more like busting his ass, if we're completely honest, and of course it's not winning him any brownie points or even getting him close to being in anything other than the friendzone.

and where he wants to be is the endzone, if you catch his drift. ~~how many bad jokes can i make in this tag, we're about to find out.~~

there's something between them here, on this blanket of grass beneath the fall of stars at the end of their time, as they streak across the sky in silent farewells. something that thrums with promise more than it speaks with words, written between the lines of what they're actually saying – and when fingers curl into his jacket, tight enough that he movement brings the smallest creak of leather with it, he pretty much decides fuck subtlety. ( which, really, he couldn't have ridden it out much longer, because he doesn't think he's ever met someone so dense in his entire life – and considering some of the people he knows, that's saying something. ) )

Son of a – oh to hell with it.

( the words are barely out of cas' mouth before he's leaning a bit more heavily on the elbow propping him up, closing what distance remained between them with the press of lips to lips, by no means chaste but not taking as much as he thinks he might like. absently, fingers brush the inside of the other's wrist, just beneath the heel of his palm, a soft sort of touch that seems far out of place with him, and yet – well.

maybe he's still trying to play along with that patience crap. you never know. )

[ castiel isn't sure what he's expecting when he reaches out to curl his fingers into dean's jacket which, for someone like him, it is an incredibly bold move that gives him away entirely, and that's pretty terrifying. he's not like dean, he's not the sort to make his interest known because people generally aren't interested in return, and honestly, castiel is so rarely concerned with anyone at all that it's not an issue that really ever arises.

but dean? dean has tested him in every way, dean has stirred things within him that he hasn't felt in years. the attraction was instant, of course - he's too good looking for his own good, knows it, the bastard, but there's far more to it than that. dean is sharp and passionate and smarter than he gives himself credit for, he is kind in unexpected ways, charismatic and warm when he isn't being an absolute pain in the ass. there is something between them, some spark that ignited quickly and burns brightly, a sort of intensity that he has felt with only one person before.

so when dean's mouth touches his own, it feels electric, like a pulse that radiates through his body, instant and evocative. he sucks in a quick breath, tensing all over, cold panic tightening in his gut like an icy fist pulling at his insides - but it eases away just as quickly, and the soft sound that castiel makes against dean's mouth is warmth and relief and longing all at once, his mouth softening from its tense line to something more pliant and inviting. the easy, gentle touch along the inside of his wrist is intimate enough to make him shiver.

castiel's arms come up, sliding over dean's broad shoulders to draw him near and keep him close, both hands curling into leather and holding fast while he tilts his head and parts his lips and allows himself to be swallowed by it. dean's mouth is so soft, warm and wet and sweet as he'd imagined it would be, because you can be sure that he has imagined it, more times than he would like to admit. but it's even better still than his own thoughts had been, it's solid and real and so, so warm. dean is filling all of his senses, the touch of his mouth, the leather and spice scent of him, the quiet, wet sounds of their mouths and of rustling fabric. ]

( that's what instincts are for, of course. for giving in and acting without thinking of the repercussions, for every little bit of conscience to be thrown out the window in favor of letting the true nature of desire take hold, bring in that which has been coveted for far too long. dean is far more likely to throw what little bit of a conscience he has in the backseat and forget about it entirely than to weigh his options, pick the best course of action – which means that when those fingers curl into the lapel of his jacket, it's far more than he'd ever thought to expect from this quiet, stoic little nerd, but he can't very well say he isn't pleased by it.

because, if he's honest, he's been wondering what it would take to get him to make a move. do something other than look at him like he has been for the better part of the past month, with eyes so wide that he's almost sure to be swallowed up by them if he chances keeping contact for too long, those longing little gaze that he's pretty sure cas himself doesn't realize he's giving. it's all too much, and too little, and of course he's going to be the one ending up making the first move, because it would be too much like something simple if the other were the one to set things in motion. to get the ball rolling. to do anything at all that would give rise to the tension that's been so slowly building between them.

again, he's never gentle by any means, but the touch of lips to lips is one that almost feels hesitant. at least in the sense of the initial contact, a brush of skin against skin that he nearly immediately seeks to deepen with the light press of his teeth, mouth falling open just enough to get a better taste than he's already gotten. it's a heady thing, to finally have something that he can't deny he's been thinking about off and on for long enough for it to count, like finally leveling out a race that had started off as a jog and has been kicked up to a sprint.

he feels that shiver, of course he does, and he doesn't bother hiding the way his lips curl into a grin, something he ends up accentuating with the slightest flick of his tongue as the other's arms come up, smooth over his shoulders and unconsciously drag him in closer. more like his body acts of its own accord, leaning in and in and in until he's just short of hovering over him, broad shoulders enough to hide the line of view from anyone that might be looking their way from his back. it's almost dizzying, really, to finally have this, even as small as it is – but he's never had qualms about taking what he wants before, and he sure as hell isn't about to start now. )

[ castiel is admittedly timid when it comes to pursuing his own romantic interests, but generally speaking that isn't a problem for him, because, generally speaking, he does not have romantic interests.

but dean has been a problem since the very start. dean, with his endearing freckles and his quicksilver smile and his excessive, maddening flirtations, dean with his strong hands and his kind heart, with his oil stained hands and loud opinions and wildly protective nature. more than anything, he is an inspiration to castiel, a role model, even if he knows he'll never achieve it, that he could never really be anything like dean, that does't stop him from admiring him, for looking up to him, and it certainly doesn't stop him falling for him.

regardless, once that initial hump is over and done with, once he's sure that dean isn't going to run screaming, or shrug him off - well, castiel has no problem pursuing what he wants. maybe it's the beer warm in his system, liquid courage, or maybe it's just that he's been wanting this for so long, but there's nothing timid about the way castiel responds to the kiss, the heat with which he returns it. his grip on the back of dean's jacket tightens, castiel's body shifting closer until they're all but flush, until he can feel the warmth of dean's body bleeding into him.

it's so good. castiel is lost in the feeling, his lips parting easily when dean presses for more, tongue sliding warm and curious against dean's, dipping into his mouth to taste him, a warm sound like a quiet moan rolling between their mouths. both hands loosen from dean's jacket to slide up and into his hair, thumbs gliding under his cheekbones, over his jawline. castiel is no longer thinking about the stars. he isn't dreaming about eta carinae or cygnus, the bright arm of the milky way or the meteors streaking overhead. his entire world is narrowed to leather and whiskey, to the taste of dean winchester in his mouth. ]

( it's a little uncanny, really, when he thinks about how different they are when it comes to pursuing what they want. dean winchester couldn't be timid even if he tried, could never be unsure no matter what sort of signals he might be getting from the focal point of his interest. his ego would never allow for it, and it's usually all he can do to keep the damn thing in check – which, really, doesn't happen very often and frequently results in one of those moments in which he makes himself an insufferable, obnoxious piece of garbage, but he can't very well say that it doesn't get him what he wants in the long run.

dean … knows he's a problem. an issue. knows that others find him attractive – both men and women, the bastard – and he would have been lying to himself and everyone else if he said that he didn't often use it to his advantage, that he didn't flirt just for the sake of doing so, to see where it gets him or how fidgety it can make the target. that charm, while it can be dialed down a bit is never fully off, and around someone like castiel it's been going nearly full force since the moment he'd walked into the garage and made himself a staple presence not only in sam's life, but his own.

it might be the beer in his system that has him pushing forward with his own intentions, but this one has never thought to do anything other than work to get what he wants, and right now, it's directly in front of him. pushing as close as he can get, finding courage with every passing moment and licking into his mouth with a streak of boldness that almost seems out of place – does seem out of place if he really thinks about it, for all he's been the quiet and unassuming little thing he's been expecting up until now. but even as surprising as it is, he likes it, shows as much with the almost-gentle, playful nip to the plush skin of his bottom lip, drinking in the soft sound that slips free as easily as he might have taken a sip from his beer.

it's quickly becoming intoxicating, kissing him, leaning lightly into the touch of hands to his face and along his jaw, the breaths catching and collecting in the back of his throat tasting of want and him, the low purr of his voice nothing but pleased as he pulls away just long enough to let one of those breaths go in a slow exhale, appreciative and just this side of awed. )

Damn.

( yeah, incredibly eloquent there, killer. he leans back in for another slow pull from those lips, easy and smooth and deep, the whole of his attention attuned to the reactions he's getting, the crackle and shimmer of a spark between them, the way every single molecule in their bodies seems perfectly angled toward one another. )

Yep … just like I thought.

[ kissing dean feels like something from a dream, like a fantasy realized, because.. well, he supposes that it is. he's thought about this so many times that it's embarrassing, too many times to count, but it's just as good as he'd hoped. dean is, unsurprisingly, a good kisser - a great kisser, his mouth soft and warm and inviting, and when dean pulls away castiel feels dizzy and confused, his chin tipping forward like he's following after, unable to understand where this good feeling has gone, and more importantly, why.

when his eyes lift up to find dean's, castiel's breath is rushing and his face is warm, his hands still caging in dean's face, thumbs smoothing just beneath his cheekbones. he's too damned good-looking for his own good, even so close, and in all this dimness. castiel is so frustratingly taken with him that he can hardly stand it, that just lying here looking up into his face is distracting, that he'd rather stare into dean's eyes than watch the meteors streaking overhead, or the beautiful swath of stars glittering in the belt of milky way above them.

he's got it so bad. it's a problem. ]

Huh?

[ he says, eloquently, his mind still reeling, his hands dropping from dean's face and down onto his shoulders, leather creaking beneath his fingers as he grasps loosely. ]

What do you mean?

[ because he's absolutely not suggesting that he's.. thought about this before.

is he?

castiel can't even entertain that idea. guys like dean don't think about guys like castiel, and while cas has certainly learned quite a lot about him, and gotten to know him well enough to see that dean isn't at all entirely the way he presents himself, that there's so much more to him than the tough guy playboy exterior. but the fact still stands that dean sleeps around, that he can get any girl that he wants, and castiel isn't.. exactly the desirable type, with his rumpled, ill-fitting clothes and his nose stuffed perpetually into a book. dean likes, you know, busty, flashy girls with short skirts and confidence, castiel isn't exactly, uh, his type. ]