For her part, Chuck would have been there earlier had she known. She would have intercepted Jessica and Sadie, sent them to the mess, put them on toilet and shower duty for a month for reasons the girls wouldn't have understood and never let them alone in a room with Cas again. But with Heaven emptied the visions didn't come like they used to anymore, crystal-clear and always a day ahead. They came in scraps, confused like the distorted image on a TV set, and it often took a long time to figure out exactly what each one meant. Details would spring back to her later in waking hours, as her brain had time to process each one. Last night she'd had confused dreams about invasive, pervasive helplessness, and woke up drenched in cold sweat. The Castiel dreams were always more intense; she mentally compared it to Vulcans, with deep-running feelings on levels more intense than human emotions but repressed so deeply that it was left to explode in her subconscious until she was almost sick with the empathy of it.
Chuck was halfway through her third shower of the day (wanting to leave Cas to get his sleep, protected from the world) when some of the distortion cleared. She stood there for five minutes, water rushing over her body until it ran cold, tracing patterns in soap on the wall and talking out loud until something clicked and she gripped the bottle of shampoo so hard in her closed fist that it exploded. There was no detail, not yet, and probably never- but it cleared enough to know that something had just happened, that she was too late, that even now Cas was huddled in the fetal position with something new weighing on his mind. The sense of shame was enough to make her choke.
She came over a good forty minutes later, a piping-hot container of meatballs in hand (and a small bottle of shitty vodka in her jacket). Chuck knocked once, then louder when there wasn't a response. It was tempting to just let herself in, but it seemed better to at least give him the chance to invite her in or not, regardless of being bed-ridden.
Cas leaned forward to pull up his pants and buried back against the comforter for a moment of comfort. If he called to the door to let whoever it was in, it was slurred and barely understood in the haziness of his mind.
At the sound of what couldn't possibly be a human voice, Chuck blinked a few times, then peeked through the window to see him there, moving a little. With a sigh she let herself in, latching the door behind her and approaching tentatively.
"...Cas?" It was, frankly, disturbing to see him like this, so strung-out and stoned, and after weeks she still wasn't used to it. "Hey there."
"HI," he smiled a little and scooted over on the bed to provide Chuck some room to sit down beside him. It still smelled like sex in the room, but he wasn't knowledgeable to it.
"You didn't have to," Cas said pulling the Tupperware container close and letting it sit between his legs. He peeled back the lid and smiled at the meatballs. It had been too long since he had red meat. "Thank you."
She didn't mean to shy away from the contact, but keeping her personal bubble was more or less reflexive at any given point, more so by how jarring it was to have an angel of the Lord nuzzling at her like a catnip junkie. Chuck caught herself halfway through and settled in next to him, every once in a while stealing a meatball with her bare fingers and popping it into her mouth.
They plowed through a good half of the container fairly quickly before Chuck finished licking her fingers. "So, uh, Cas," she coughed awkwardly. "How are you?"
"Tired... sore... confused," if nothing else he was honest. Cas popped a final meatball into his mouth and burrowed under his blankets again looking for warmth and security that hadn't been there since the two women entered. It wasn't fun to not understand your body, a distant part of him thought he should be happy about what happened but most of him just didn't understand.
"Two girls came in here, and I think I had sex..." Cas replied matter of factly. He shook his head and look down at his lap before handing back the container. Nope, not a good feeling.
"She did things I'm not sure of," Cas leaned up against Chuck for some support. Burrowed into her, really. His belt was still undone and jingled against his jeans when he moved. "Do women really enjoy putting the reproductive organs in their mouth? It felt good, but..." he trailed off. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.
Chuck adjusted and leaned so he could burrow into her better, to get more comfortable, feeling distinctly awkward. It was a good thing he couldn't see the look on her face when he said that, and it was only through pure force of will that she swallowed her initial reaction of spit-taking her Svedka.
"It's, um, it's a pretty normal... thing." She sort of wanted to melt into the floor. "...But what?"
"They became upset with me when I didn't reciprocate," Cas replied with an expression of both shame and grief. He wasn't ready yet and he knew it. The only reason he'd consented to them was because he didn't understand, and even afterward he'd felt somewhat yellow after he'd climaxed.
Chuck was halfway through her third shower of the day (wanting to leave Cas to get his sleep, protected from the world) when some of the distortion cleared. She stood there for five minutes, water rushing over her body until it ran cold, tracing patterns in soap on the wall and talking out loud until something clicked and she gripped the bottle of shampoo so hard in her closed fist that it exploded. There was no detail, not yet, and probably never- but it cleared enough to know that something had just happened, that she was too late, that even now Cas was huddled in the fetal position with something new weighing on his mind. The sense of shame was enough to make her choke.
She came over a good forty minutes later, a piping-hot container of meatballs in hand (and a small bottle of shitty vodka in her jacket). Chuck knocked once, then louder when there wasn't a response. It was tempting to just let herself in, but it seemed better to at least give him the chance to invite her in or not, regardless of being bed-ridden.
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"...Cas?" It was, frankly, disturbing to see him like this, so strung-out and stoned, and after weeks she still wasn't used to it. "Hey there."
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"I brought you a present," she said, tight-lipped, and put the Tupperware in his lap balanced on his good leg.
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They plowed through a good half of the container fairly quickly before Chuck finished licking her fingers. "So, uh, Cas," she coughed awkwardly. "How are you?"
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"What happened?"
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"You... think?"
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"It's, um, it's a pretty normal... thing." She sort of wanted to melt into the floor. "...But what?"
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