Hurt Makes It BeautifulDean hated this, hated seeing the man beside him, not the angel but the man, hide things from him. Every touch he gave was rewarded with a flinch and terror in his friends face. Every word confused him, made him stare at Dean as if he didn't know exactly what he meant. He found himself checking every word, every touch, every emotion that showed on his face. Cas was showing emotions now, plain and easy to see, but there were only two that Dean had the opportunity to see: fear and, very rarely, sorrow.
Sorrow was hidden and confined, Cas hiding away in the bathroom or leaving the motel room at night to cry into the night. Dean didn't like it when he went out there alone, a new human, vulnerable for the first time, but there was nothing he could do to stop it and the mortal needed his space.
Cas rarely slept, lying on his side and shivering in the bed beside Dean's. The hunter wanted to crawl into bed with him, wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. Now that he was human he wasn't a
response to doya-G"You know what's really weird?" Sam was drunk and laughing and telling Cas a lot of things that he thought was weird. Most of them hadnt been that strange in the angel's mind. "When I was a kid, I dont remember this, but Dean told me about it, pretty soon after he met you. He said that when we were little he got lost in a big supermarket and some guy in a trench coat, like yours, found him, and helped him find us. He was really embarrassed because of it and our dad was really harsh about it. Even years later he would still make fun of him about it. I guess Dean took it really hard. He always wanted dad to see him as perfect."
Cas thought on that. Dean had a way of trying to be the best, no matter what, and sometimes it didnt work out. He looked back into Dean;s life, something that he hadnt tried to do as Dean had always told him not to dig around in his head, but the hunter was asleep on the opposite side of the room, already having drunk more than his fill. He found the moment and wa
NaNo 2012 chp 1Cedar and wood smoke, lager and meat, these are what taverns are supposed to smell like. If he paid close enough attention to the smell, he could also smell iron and blood and sweat and dirt. These were things he smelled in all places, but to lesser degrees. Taverns and drink seemed to draw those things out of people, make it easier to find and to smell.
He sat in the back, his hands behind his head, as he sat, legs outstretched before him, in a leather bound chair. It was faded in places, where his back and buttocks rubbed the color away, but it was comfortable. It was pretty much his chair, his sitting in it for so long and so often that it had molded its shape to his muscular frame.
As he sat, his hood pulled over his face even though this pace was already so dark and smoky it would be close to impossible to see his features, he watched. There were the regulars, laughing and joking as they drank at the long wooden tables, as opposed to the others which sat at the bar drinking
Basic Space 2They let him on, of course he did, and he was surprised by how good he was at the job. He pulled off the grate in the kitchen on the first day and pulled out the army men, hacked into pieces and deeply shoved into the gears after all of this time, fixing the air conditioning. Everyone liked that. He even got a big hug from Ellen.
She was a good woman, stern, fair, and hard, but absolutely wonderful. She must have been a bartender before getting on the boat, as she was great at mixing drinks and would practice pouring and counseling on Dean when he was the only one in the kitchen. They would talk for hours and she was soon a mother to him, just like Sam had warned.
Her daughter was gorgeous and blond and nothing like you'd expect from a teenager. She was tough and she acted as if she could take on the world or, at least, Dean. He was a lot older than her, at least six years, and three lifetimes, but he still caught her eyeing him up sometimes. He was tempted to give her those looks back