[ Dean has always been and will always be one to think something over until he's decimated it completely. And even then, he'll continue, worrying and mulling and regretting until there's nothing left, until all he's left with are the remnants of what he was so upset about to begin with. It's in his nature to find ways to blame himself, to take on the weight and the guilt, a well worn path that was constructed for him in his youth and he simply took on because what else was he supposed to do?
And all of this is no different. He's still regretful, still apologetic, still wondering why he feels like the world has ended despite how they're both right here.
But Dean finds himself self conscious in an instant as Cas begins to move about, feeling far too big for his own skin and quantifiably nervous. He finally pulls back his hand to plop his palms against his knees, staring off at nothing in particular for a moment before he nods and looks to Cas. ]
[ it's more than obvious to cas's eyes that dean's jittery, and cas can easily commiserate with the sensation of not fitting into your skin, feeling that itch; sometimes he still feels it, isn't sure it'll ever go away.
so he finds it difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to smooth a hand through dean's hair in a way he knows might be comforting, but dean's edgy, he's tight and wound up, like a cornered animal, and cas knows when not to overstep his bounds. there was once a time when dean was a touchy-feely guy, when he was always clapping cas's shoulder or tugging at his tie, being physical in a way that just seemed so natural and cas was too awkward then, too clumsy in his vessel to be able to properly appreciate it.
sometimes it still comes through, dean's warmth, but it's a guttering candle flame in comparison with the inviting, roaring hearth it once was; dean's gotten colder, distant, gone to places even cas can't reach. but then, they all had, all of them back home, no one could live through what they endured without losing something important and precious along the way. ]
Yeah, yeah.
[ he says, shrugging boneless and easy, before he's meandering to the door and pausing halfway through to glance back toward him. ]
[ Sometimes Dean feels as if he's two people. The man he used to be, the one that came before, and the thing he is now, a man who no longer knows how to move through the world in quite the same way. And Dean is sure of it, knows that at times they compete for space in a way that leaves him to flicker between worlds, leaves him uncomfortable and exposed, not knowing where to put his hands or which words he should let slip free. It's as if it peels back spaces that haven't been seen for years, only to have them shut down again in an instant, Dean left with nothing but the remnants of actions he used to slide into out of sheer habit.
But it makes him uncomfortable, pulls him too tight, and he always ends up right in the same place that he'd left. The one where he simply doesn't. Doesn't know how or what to do or how to respond, and so he holds himself back, amplified and waiting for the next opportunity to do it all over again. To fail and close himself off, to where he doesn't have to question his motives simply because they weren't there to begin with.
It doesn't mean that he doesn't want. Because he does. Prolifically. He just doesn't know how to say it when he gets caught up in the delivery.
Lifting his gaze back to Cas, all Dean feels is that incremental creeping of implosion, the one where he wants to bury himself somewhere deep until it dies down. He never quite knows what it is, just knows he can't do anything about it, and so he nods and tries to push his own thoughts away. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 7 Jun 2016 12:32 (UTC)And all of this is no different. He's still regretful, still apologetic, still wondering why he feels like the world has ended despite how they're both right here.
But Dean finds himself self conscious in an instant as Cas begins to move about, feeling far too big for his own skin and quantifiably nervous. He finally pulls back his hand to plop his palms against his knees, staring off at nothing in particular for a moment before he nods and looks to Cas. ]
You know where the door is.
no subject
Date: 8 Jun 2016 05:42 (UTC)so he finds it difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to smooth a hand through dean's hair in a way he knows might be comforting, but dean's edgy, he's tight and wound up, like a cornered animal, and cas knows when not to overstep his bounds. there was once a time when dean was a touchy-feely guy, when he was always clapping cas's shoulder or tugging at his tie, being physical in a way that just seemed so natural and cas was too awkward then, too clumsy in his vessel to be able to properly appreciate it.
sometimes it still comes through, dean's warmth, but it's a guttering candle flame in comparison with the inviting, roaring hearth it once was; dean's gotten colder, distant, gone to places even cas can't reach. but then, they all had, all of them back home, no one could live through what they endured without losing something important and precious along the way. ]
Yeah, yeah.
[ he says, shrugging boneless and easy, before he's meandering to the door and pausing halfway through to glance back toward him. ]
Anything you need, you know where to find me.
no subject
Date: 8 Jun 2016 11:26 (UTC)But it makes him uncomfortable, pulls him too tight, and he always ends up right in the same place that he'd left. The one where he simply doesn't. Doesn't know how or what to do or how to respond, and so he holds himself back, amplified and waiting for the next opportunity to do it all over again. To fail and close himself off, to where he doesn't have to question his motives simply because they weren't there to begin with.
It doesn't mean that he doesn't want. Because he does. Prolifically. He just doesn't know how to say it when he gets caught up in the delivery.
Lifting his gaze back to Cas, all Dean feels is that incremental creeping of implosion, the one where he wants to bury himself somewhere deep until it dies down. He never quite knows what it is, just knows he can't do anything about it, and so he nods and tries to push his own thoughts away. ]
I know.