Fic: Behind the moon, beyond the rain, part 4/? in the Oz series
Behind the moon, beyond the rain
940 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
It’s a warm and lazy afternoon, with the sun beginning to dip low in the jewel blue sky. Dean and Castiel are sitting on the deck, enjoying the day and some reading. At least, Castiel is. Dean,
Behind the moon, beyond the rain
It’s a warm and lazy afternoon, with the sun beginning to dip low in the jewel blue sky. Dean and Castiel are sitting on the deck, enjoying the day and some reading. At least, Castiel is. Dean, for his part, is tired of reading Moby Dick. It’s about a million pages long and he doesn’t know why he picked it up in the first place. “Let’s do something fun, Cas,” he says.
Castiel places a bookmark in Slaughterhouse V and says, “What do you propose?”
Dean sits up and paces the length of the deck. “I don’t know. Anything new to do around this town?”
“I doubt it,” Castiel replies. “Our options are severely limited to begin with, and it’s Sunday.”
“I heard The Maltese Falcon is playing tonight at the Flick ‘N Shake,” Dean says. “I’ve seen it, but then again, I’ve seen all the movies they play around here.”
“What’s it about?” Castiel puts his book down on the loveseat beside him.
“What dreams are made of,” Dean quotes and then shrugs, remembering his audience. “It’s a black and white movie about a bird statue.”
“Is that supposed to be good?” Castiel asks doubtfully.
“It’s pretty good,” Dean shrugs again. “Humphrey Bogart’s in it. He was in the movie we saw last week-Casablanca.”
“Two weeks ago,” Castiel corrects.
“Two weeks?” Dean says and leans back on his heels. “Shit.”
“Yes,” Castiel says. “Shit.”
Dean chuckles and for a moment the corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkle into a smile as well. The moment fades when Dean asks, “How long has it been now?”
“Two and a half months,” Castiel says. “Summer is almost over.”
“We gotta get out of here, Cas,” Dean says, squinting out at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to set. “We gotta find a way out.”
Castiel tips his head back onto the uncomfortable edge of the wicker loveseat back. “What if there is no way out?”
“Don’t even say it,” Dean says, gripping the railing of the deck so hard his knuckles turn white. “There’s always a way out.”
“What if this is it?” Castiel persists, staring up at the sky, now blue streaked with red and orange and purple. “What if there’s nothing to go back to?”
“Do not tell me you’re starting to buy into that nuclear winter, end of the world, preserving the union and human race bullshit they’re spewing,” Dean gestures in the direction of the house next door and the neighborhood in general. “It’s a steaming pile of crap and you know it. There’s a whole world out there that needs saving and we’re missing it, stuck in Mountaindale.” A whole world and Sam, Dean adds to himself.
“A whole world to save,” Castiel echoes.
Dean swivels around to look at Castiel. “Don’t you want to go home?”
“Home?” Castiel lets out an unexpected--and unexpectedly sad--bark of laughter. “What home? I have been exiled from my home. I can never go back.” He falls quiet. “Not in this form. Not as what I am now.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean says. “This-this Jimmy thing might only be temporary. Maybe if you go back, they can put you together again like Humpty Dumpty.”
“There is no Jimmy; there is only me,” Castiel says and his voice is acrid, dipped in bitterness. “The mere sight or sound of my brothers and sisters would destroy my mortal senses. I would be as a worm to them, blind and deaf beneath their feet.”
“Cas,” Dean says, and he pulls away from the railing to squat in front of Castiel. “Maybe you can’t go back to what you were but this place, this life-it’s not your only option. It’s not.”
Castiel meets Dean’s gaze reluctantly. “What difference does it make?”
“Don’t you want more?”
“I don’t know what I want, Dean.” Castiel’s jaw clenches. “Before you, I never even knew what it was to want.”
Dean goes still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Castiel stares at Dean with an expression Dean can’t identify and the air fills with a strange and breathy anticipation. Dean swallows and his heart begins to race for a reason he can’t begin to articulate.
Abruptly, Castiel stands up and Dean almost topples backwards. “It means nothing,” Castiel says and begins to head inside the house.
Dean straightens up and asks-a part of him afraid of the answer, a part of him waiting, thrilling for it. “What do you want?”
Castiel pauses, a hand on the handle of the sliding glass door. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“I can’t say it,” Dean says and his throat is hoarse, like there’s a lump in it that refuses to be swallowed down. “I can’t say it, Cas, so you’re gonna to have to. You’re gonna to have to tell me.”
If Dean could see the reflection of Castiel’s face in the glass, he’d see something stricken, a terrified and wordless expression of longing. But Dean doesn’t see it, so all he hears is the ice that hangs from Castiel’s words, “I don’t know what you’re asking me, Dean. But if you can’t say it, then maybe that means it is something that shouldn’t be said at all.” Castiel goes inside and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.
Dean waits for his heart rate to return to normal, and waits for the obstruction in his throat to fade. They do eventually, but he stands outside on the deck for a long time after that anyway, long after the sun has set and the moon has taken its place in the night.
Onto the next chapter: I could while away the hours
940 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
It’s a warm and lazy afternoon, with the sun beginning to dip low in the jewel blue sky. Dean and Castiel are sitting on the deck, enjoying the day and some reading. At least, Castiel is. Dean,
Behind the moon, beyond the rain
It’s a warm and lazy afternoon, with the sun beginning to dip low in the jewel blue sky. Dean and Castiel are sitting on the deck, enjoying the day and some reading. At least, Castiel is. Dean, for his part, is tired of reading Moby Dick. It’s about a million pages long and he doesn’t know why he picked it up in the first place. “Let’s do something fun, Cas,” he says.
Castiel places a bookmark in Slaughterhouse V and says, “What do you propose?”
Dean sits up and paces the length of the deck. “I don’t know. Anything new to do around this town?”
“I doubt it,” Castiel replies. “Our options are severely limited to begin with, and it’s Sunday.”
“I heard The Maltese Falcon is playing tonight at the Flick ‘N Shake,” Dean says. “I’ve seen it, but then again, I’ve seen all the movies they play around here.”
“What’s it about?” Castiel puts his book down on the loveseat beside him.
“What dreams are made of,” Dean quotes and then shrugs, remembering his audience. “It’s a black and white movie about a bird statue.”
“Is that supposed to be good?” Castiel asks doubtfully.
“It’s pretty good,” Dean shrugs again. “Humphrey Bogart’s in it. He was in the movie we saw last week-Casablanca.”
“Two weeks ago,” Castiel corrects.
“Two weeks?” Dean says and leans back on his heels. “Shit.”
“Yes,” Castiel says. “Shit.”
Dean chuckles and for a moment the corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkle into a smile as well. The moment fades when Dean asks, “How long has it been now?”
“Two and a half months,” Castiel says. “Summer is almost over.”
“We gotta get out of here, Cas,” Dean says, squinting out at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to set. “We gotta find a way out.”
Castiel tips his head back onto the uncomfortable edge of the wicker loveseat back. “What if there is no way out?”
“Don’t even say it,” Dean says, gripping the railing of the deck so hard his knuckles turn white. “There’s always a way out.”
“What if this is it?” Castiel persists, staring up at the sky, now blue streaked with red and orange and purple. “What if there’s nothing to go back to?”
“Do not tell me you’re starting to buy into that nuclear winter, end of the world, preserving the union and human race bullshit they’re spewing,” Dean gestures in the direction of the house next door and the neighborhood in general. “It’s a steaming pile of crap and you know it. There’s a whole world out there that needs saving and we’re missing it, stuck in Mountaindale.” A whole world and Sam, Dean adds to himself.
“A whole world to save,” Castiel echoes.
Dean swivels around to look at Castiel. “Don’t you want to go home?”
“Home?” Castiel lets out an unexpected--and unexpectedly sad--bark of laughter. “What home? I have been exiled from my home. I can never go back.” He falls quiet. “Not in this form. Not as what I am now.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean says. “This-this Jimmy thing might only be temporary. Maybe if you go back, they can put you together again like Humpty Dumpty.”
“There is no Jimmy; there is only me,” Castiel says and his voice is acrid, dipped in bitterness. “The mere sight or sound of my brothers and sisters would destroy my mortal senses. I would be as a worm to them, blind and deaf beneath their feet.”
“Cas,” Dean says, and he pulls away from the railing to squat in front of Castiel. “Maybe you can’t go back to what you were but this place, this life-it’s not your only option. It’s not.”
Castiel meets Dean’s gaze reluctantly. “What difference does it make?”
“Don’t you want more?”
“I don’t know what I want, Dean.” Castiel’s jaw clenches. “Before you, I never even knew what it was to want.”
Dean goes still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Castiel stares at Dean with an expression Dean can’t identify and the air fills with a strange and breathy anticipation. Dean swallows and his heart begins to race for a reason he can’t begin to articulate.
Abruptly, Castiel stands up and Dean almost topples backwards. “It means nothing,” Castiel says and begins to head inside the house.
Dean straightens up and asks-a part of him afraid of the answer, a part of him waiting, thrilling for it. “What do you want?”
Castiel pauses, a hand on the handle of the sliding glass door. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“I can’t say it,” Dean says and his throat is hoarse, like there’s a lump in it that refuses to be swallowed down. “I can’t say it, Cas, so you’re gonna to have to. You’re gonna to have to tell me.”
If Dean could see the reflection of Castiel’s face in the glass, he’d see something stricken, a terrified and wordless expression of longing. But Dean doesn’t see it, so all he hears is the ice that hangs from Castiel’s words, “I don’t know what you’re asking me, Dean. But if you can’t say it, then maybe that means it is something that shouldn’t be said at all.” Castiel goes inside and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.
Dean waits for his heart rate to return to normal, and waits for the obstruction in his throat to fade. They do eventually, but he stands outside on the deck for a long time after that anyway, long after the sun has set and the moon has taken its place in the night.
Onto the next chapter: I could while away the hours