i have put off my coat
Title: I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? ( Day of Bones remix)
Author: miscellanium
Characters: Jimmy, Castiel/Sam (implicit Castiel/Dean)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 519
Summary: I can't close my own eyes, but it's something you get used to after a while.
Notes: Done as an exercise to practice first-person POV.
I can't close my own eyes, but it's something you get used to after a while. I mean, it's not like I have much choice, having told him yes. Twice, even. So of course I see everything he sees, and right now that's a kid with this mane of hair, and I mean a fucking mane, sitting in a chair and moping like it's the end of the world all over again.
The thing is, he's not human like me, so to say he sees things differently would be an understatement. There's not infinite stars or anything predictable like that-there's a level of detail, all these lines and pores, that hurts. I can't really say what's hurting, because nothing feels right these days. It's just a phantom pain, like my body knows the wrong one's in charge. Kind of like the expression in the kid's eyes.
Except Sam's not a kid, not really. Just seems like one because of all the space he takes up, all arms and legs and big hands like a puppy. And the way he cares about every little thing in a way that his brother can't bring himself to show-
My thinking about the brother makes him upset. He can't help it. Makes him press down on me, though, turn up the static of his mind. And, dammit, now he's talking-
Talking about Hell and the words feel like hell, burning all the way up because he doesn't know how to use my voice, can't accept that his comes from a different place. But I said yes and can't ask him to stop ever again.
It's Sam's turn, and for whatever reason my eyes are staring at him, skittering across his face and catching in scars that aren't there, in the iridescent color of his living skin, in the corner of his mouth as his blood-pink tongue wets it.
Sam's quiet again but my head's full of thoughts that don't belong to me, new rooms and upside-down staircases that echo with Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. I try to remember my wife's face, two thousand miles away if she's still there, but she's gone under all of this; he's in my body and there's nowhere left to hide. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair. The reverb gets sharper and sharper, but under it all I can still make out his eternal song of dean Dean DEAN DEAN DEAN-
I can't touch.
The soft pinprick of him moves behind my eyes, lets me breathe again. Sometimes I can feel his guilt at lashing out, but this isn't one of those times. All his attention's on the kid in front of him, this welcome relief from the war. I didn't know what I was signing up for but I said yes, I said yes.
"Oh, but this is love," I can hear myself say, voice all broken like gravel and the words acid in my mouth.
I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets.
Author: miscellanium
Characters: Jimmy, Castiel/Sam (implicit Castiel/Dean)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 519
Summary: I can't close my own eyes, but it's something you get used to after a while.
Notes: Done as an exercise to practice first-person POV.
I can't close my own eyes, but it's something you get used to after a while. I mean, it's not like I have much choice, having told him yes. Twice, even. So of course I see everything he sees, and right now that's a kid with this mane of hair, and I mean a fucking mane, sitting in a chair and moping like it's the end of the world all over again.
The thing is, he's not human like me, so to say he sees things differently would be an understatement. There's not infinite stars or anything predictable like that-there's a level of detail, all these lines and pores, that hurts. I can't really say what's hurting, because nothing feels right these days. It's just a phantom pain, like my body knows the wrong one's in charge. Kind of like the expression in the kid's eyes.
Except Sam's not a kid, not really. Just seems like one because of all the space he takes up, all arms and legs and big hands like a puppy. And the way he cares about every little thing in a way that his brother can't bring himself to show-
My thinking about the brother makes him upset. He can't help it. Makes him press down on me, though, turn up the static of his mind. And, dammit, now he's talking-
Talking about Hell and the words feel like hell, burning all the way up because he doesn't know how to use my voice, can't accept that his comes from a different place. But I said yes and can't ask him to stop ever again.
It's Sam's turn, and for whatever reason my eyes are staring at him, skittering across his face and catching in scars that aren't there, in the iridescent color of his living skin, in the corner of his mouth as his blood-pink tongue wets it.
Sam's quiet again but my head's full of thoughts that don't belong to me, new rooms and upside-down staircases that echo with Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. I try to remember my wife's face, two thousand miles away if she's still there, but she's gone under all of this; he's in my body and there's nowhere left to hide. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair. The reverb gets sharper and sharper, but under it all I can still make out his eternal song of dean Dean DEAN DEAN DEAN-
I can't touch.
The soft pinprick of him moves behind my eyes, lets me breathe again. Sometimes I can feel his guilt at lashing out, but this isn't one of those times. All his attention's on the kid in front of him, this welcome relief from the war. I didn't know what I was signing up for but I said yes, I said yes.
"Oh, but this is love," I can hear myself say, voice all broken like gravel and the words acid in my mouth.
I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets.