Soul Collecting
Of course the first day of mmom is the first day of it I work. THIS IS SHORT AND WEIRD, ENJOY.
Soul Collecting
PG-13(ish. maybe PG-15? Is that a thing?) | Balthazar, Dean/Castiel | ~440 words
Frankly Balthazar finds it disgusting. Like walking through a cloud of dewdrop colored cotton candy.
The motel room has only just been emptied, it’s still warm. But then again, that’s exactly how Balthazar wanted it, still half occupied by the Winchesters, bits of their souls that they’ve left behind still alive for a second in their absence. They lay about like bits of cotton fluff, on every surface, in the air.
Frankly Balthazar finds it disgusting. Like walking through a cloud of dewdrop colored cotton candy. Too bad for him that even the residue of these particular souls is interesting enough to be collected and sold, or he wouldn’t have to bother.
He tuts to himself as he takes a vial from his pocket. The soul residue lies thickest on the beds, as always, they leak from the ears at night. And this is the part he hates the most.
Gritting his teeth, Balthazar plunges his hand into the nearest puddle of soul. It’s like touching lightning, sharp jolts rattling through him. He knows that right now Sam is investigating something uninteresting at a library maybe four blocks from here, drinking a cup of coffee that’s not sweet enough for something he paid four dollars for, but he’s too engrossed in his research to really mind or to more than peripherally notice the girl on the computer across an aisle of books giving him the eye; last night he had a tuna melt for dinner because there’s nowhere around here that sells anything more to his tastes, which is probably why Dean likes this town so much, and the bread was soggy because Sam let it sit -
Balthazar closes the vial, exhaling. There’s only so many tedious thoughts he can stomach, that’ll have to be enough. He replaces the vial in his coat pocket, drawing an empty one. He turns to Dean’s bed.
Right now Dean is eating lunch, he’s having a hamburger and he wishes they put more mayo on it but the fries are the way he likes them, so crisp they’re nearly burnt; and last night he didn’t sleep much because he had a dream and Cas was in it and it woke him up, Cas was blowing him and his lips were pink and he looked into Dean’s eyes while he was doing it, he let Dean watch himself go in and out of Cas’ mouth and he woke up hard and barely had to jerk it before he came; and now he might never be able to look at Cas again; hey, he’s still pretty hungry, he wants another burger, that waitress is pretty hot -
Well.
Balthazar caps his vial, and tucks it onto his shirt pocket. He’s saving this one.
~
Soul Collecting
PG-13(ish. maybe PG-15? Is that a thing?) | Balthazar, Dean/Castiel | ~440 words
Frankly Balthazar finds it disgusting. Like walking through a cloud of dewdrop colored cotton candy.
The motel room has only just been emptied, it’s still warm. But then again, that’s exactly how Balthazar wanted it, still half occupied by the Winchesters, bits of their souls that they’ve left behind still alive for a second in their absence. They lay about like bits of cotton fluff, on every surface, in the air.
Frankly Balthazar finds it disgusting. Like walking through a cloud of dewdrop colored cotton candy. Too bad for him that even the residue of these particular souls is interesting enough to be collected and sold, or he wouldn’t have to bother.
He tuts to himself as he takes a vial from his pocket. The soul residue lies thickest on the beds, as always, they leak from the ears at night. And this is the part he hates the most.
Gritting his teeth, Balthazar plunges his hand into the nearest puddle of soul. It’s like touching lightning, sharp jolts rattling through him. He knows that right now Sam is investigating something uninteresting at a library maybe four blocks from here, drinking a cup of coffee that’s not sweet enough for something he paid four dollars for, but he’s too engrossed in his research to really mind or to more than peripherally notice the girl on the computer across an aisle of books giving him the eye; last night he had a tuna melt for dinner because there’s nowhere around here that sells anything more to his tastes, which is probably why Dean likes this town so much, and the bread was soggy because Sam let it sit -
Balthazar closes the vial, exhaling. There’s only so many tedious thoughts he can stomach, that’ll have to be enough. He replaces the vial in his coat pocket, drawing an empty one. He turns to Dean’s bed.
Right now Dean is eating lunch, he’s having a hamburger and he wishes they put more mayo on it but the fries are the way he likes them, so crisp they’re nearly burnt; and last night he didn’t sleep much because he had a dream and Cas was in it and it woke him up, Cas was blowing him and his lips were pink and he looked into Dean’s eyes while he was doing it, he let Dean watch himself go in and out of Cas’ mouth and he woke up hard and barely had to jerk it before he came; and now he might never be able to look at Cas again; hey, he’s still pretty hungry, he wants another burger, that waitress is pretty hot -
Well.
Balthazar caps his vial, and tucks it onto his shirt pocket. He’s saving this one.
~