just a wee drabble type thing for tonight,
will get back into the swing of Caspe-Wri-Mo come tomorrow :)
"Do you remember falling?" Dean asks, hands sunk deep into the pockets of the washed-out jeans that hang low upon his hips. His feet are bare and he wears no shirt. The muss of his hair, and the yawn he does not bother to hide, evidence that he's just slipped out of a sleep-warmed bed.
Castiel stands at the window, back turned to him, and stares out across the parking lot of another in a long line of motel rooms. It is raining outside. Dean can hear the persistent drumming of it against the roof as he rubs the grit from tired eyes and pads his way a little closer.
Castiel ignores him save for the shiver that runs through his body as Dean lays a hand to his bare shoulder, feeling the chill of his flesh. Angels should never be cold, he thinks, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Castiel. He feels Castiel shiver again, this time at the press of bare skin to skin.
“Cas?” Dean calls, his breath a whisper of sound to the back of Castiel’s neck.
“It’s not so much that I’ve fallen,” Castiel says, softly, his words so quiet Dean strains to hear them over the pounding of the rain, “more that I have been cast from Heaven, unwillingly.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, arms squeezing. His apology nothing but empty words for all the good they can do.
“It is not your doing,” Castiel says, dropping his head to his chest, his body slumping back against Dean.
“It is,” Dean insists and Castiel says nothing else. He just raises his hands and lays them atop Dean’s hugging arms as they stand together and watch the rain fall.
[ end. ]