Too good to not tag back~!holy_hand_printDecember 14 2009, 18:06:21 UTC
"Dean."
The angel replied back, his eyes over looking the landscape that he was in front of. He was somewhere in Colorado, in the mountains. The snow covered the ground and trees, it looked like someone took white glitter and threw it over the mountain side, the snow was glistening in the night. It was cold, a bitter cold but Castiel paid no attention to it. Even in his vessel the cold had little affect on him. However at the moment he could feel a frost nip at his cheeks. That worried him.
This along with the injuries was another sign of Castiel losing his grace. The angel lifted his hand to his cheek, absent mindly scratching at the bandages that were there. Bandages that Dean Winchester had put on him. When Castiel was speared and bloodied it was Dean Winchester who had saved him. The angel let his hand fall from his face, blue eyes watching over the forest slowly. He could see a dear making its way through the thick wood, her body swift and nimble as she pranced to the lake.
LOL. TY! :DiamwinchesterDecember 14 2009, 23:12:36 UTC
Dean frowned down the phone at his name and then silence, wondering momentarily why Cas was doing a really good impression of a mute person on the other end of the line. For a second he thought the angel might have dropped the cell, or run out of credit, apparently topping the freaking thing up was still out of Cas's skillset.
He was still hung up on the conversation, carrying around with him the vague wish that he would be left alone, or at least given a bottle of Jack and sat in a corner.
"Yeah. Figured you'd have that red-ringed in your pink, heart-covered diary, man." He returned, eyes wandering from the dashboard to the gas station window, fixing on his brother and then back to the steering wheel.
Castiel gave a rather prominent frown when Dean spoke to him in such a way, the angel looking confused as he tore his attention away from the deer in the clearing and instead focused on the conversation he was having
( ... )
Dean looked lost for words, jaw slack, mouth hanging open as he realised he'd got it wrong - apparently their night wasn't lost, wasn't even close to being hijacked by their 'mission'. Scrubbing a hand over his face, elbow resting on the open frame of his window despite the cold air, he rested his head against his palm, phone still hard up against his ear.
"Where are you?" He wanted to return the good wishes, even wanted to try it face-to-face, but Sam looked like he was about to pay for the liquor and his potato chips, and he wasn't sure if he could bring Cas into what would be an awkward situation with a clear conscience.
I PROMISED I'D REPLY.prettyboyangelDecember 15 2009, 20:16:53 UTC
Standing in the centre of the motel room where he had last left Dean Winchester and his brother, Castiel allows himself a moment's silent relief as he hears the man's voice down the phone line. Not that he'd ever let Dean know that.
"Dean," his voice is as monotone ever when he replies. "Where are you?"
*smirk* Yes, you did.iamwinchesterDecember 15 2009, 20:29:37 UTC
"Not wherever you are." Dean replies completely unhelpfully, with his walls back up comes his attitude, too. This time the guilt is quicker to come though, building up in his chest until he lets out an involuntary breath and frowns. He feels like he should cut the angel some slack and just be honest, still pissed at Sam for opening up his emotions like a can of goddamn tuna.
"Gas station on Hobart Road." They had set up camp in a tiny town called Hobart, Missouri, and he'd been pleased, glad he doesn't have to spend Christmas in a busy city bustling with every other person actually excited about it.
Castiel hangs up the line without saying goodbye, disappearing from the abandoned motel room and reappearing immediately in the passenger seat of the Impala.
"I asked you to inform me when you moved," he carries on the conversation as if there had been no break, staring directly forward with the slightest of frowns decorating his face.
"Damn, Cas." Dean jumps as the seat next to him is suddenly filled, dropping the phone into his lap and swearing up and down he should be used to Cas's entrances by now. Grunting his annoyance he grabs his cell, flipping it shut and throwing it up on the dashboard, frown decorating his own forehead.
"We're gettin' somethin' to make the eggnog worth drinkin'." He says without apology - he hadn't realised going to the gas station was worth the phone call. The sentence almost makes their Christmas sound normal.
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The angel replied back, his eyes over looking the landscape that he was in front of. He was somewhere in Colorado, in the mountains. The snow covered the ground and trees, it looked like someone took white glitter and threw it over the mountain side, the snow was glistening in the night. It was cold, a bitter cold but Castiel paid no attention to it. Even in his vessel the cold had little affect on him. However at the moment he could feel a frost nip at his cheeks. That worried him.
This along with the injuries was another sign of Castiel losing his grace. The angel lifted his hand to his cheek, absent mindly scratching at the bandages that were there. Bandages that Dean Winchester had put on him. When Castiel was speared and bloodied it was Dean Winchester who had saved him. The angel let his hand fall from his face, blue eyes watching over the forest slowly. He could see a dear making its way through the thick wood, her body swift and nimble as she pranced to the lake.
"....Today is Christmas, is it not?"
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He was still hung up on the conversation, carrying around with him the vague wish that he would be left alone, or at least given a bottle of Jack and sat in a corner.
"Yeah. Figured you'd have that red-ringed in your pink, heart-covered diary, man." He returned, eyes wandering from the dashboard to the gas station window, fixing on his brother and then back to the steering wheel.
Reply
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"Where are you?" He wanted to return the good wishes, even wanted to try it face-to-face, but Sam looked like he was about to pay for the liquor and his potato chips, and he wasn't sure if he could bring Cas into what would be an awkward situation with a clear conscience.
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Dean," his voice is as monotone ever when he replies. "Where are you?"
Reply
"Gas station on Hobart Road." They had set up camp in a tiny town called Hobart, Missouri, and he'd been pleased, glad he doesn't have to spend Christmas in a busy city bustling with every other person actually excited about it.
Reply
"I asked you to inform me when you moved," he carries on the conversation as if there had been no break, staring directly forward with the slightest of frowns decorating his face.
Reply
"We're gettin' somethin' to make the eggnog worth drinkin'." He says without apology - he hadn't realised going to the gas station was worth the phone call. The sentence almost makes their Christmas sound normal.
Reply
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