hay thar bb! I rolled comfort/1, but we can see how this goes. Say, just after he got cursed? lolsoulkinkMarch 8 2012, 23:38:50 UTC
[Usually, when Crowley showed up to harass the fallen angel, it was in silence, with the first noise being that drawling of his voice. Hello, Angel. This time it was different. There was a flutter of wings that might have signaled one of his brothers had caught up with him.
Instead, it's Crowley, in his usual impeccable suit, but there are wings peering over his shoulders. Huge things, with black, glossy feathers that shine by the fading light. To say that Crowley looks cross would be the understatement of the century. As if having to pull the Winchesters out of the fires they seem to insist on throwing themselves into, now he has sodding wings for his trouble.
He doesn't exactly know why he's here (where else would he go?) but it somehow seemed fitting.]
[Crowley doesn't know how to not broadcast. This is horrible, miserable, and he feels more than a little annoyed at himself for the silent wish that Castiel would touch them again.
He touches Cas, so that the angel can follow, and appears at a small little house on the Eastern seacoast. The wind is sharp and howling, and there's that sinister air of ghosts and the otherworldly; thankfully most ghosts are smart enough to leave angels and demons alone unless provoked. There's a blood sigil on the wall that he touches, and it mutes his energies some, weaves it underneath the ones screaming in rage and pain for their deaths.
[Castiel looks around. It's not really much worse than some off the motels that he's seen the Winchesters stay in.
He studies Crowley. The demon looks so different like this. It's strange that a physical change should affect the way he looks at Crowley, but the wings are distracting to Castiel.]
Did Gabriel say anything when he did this? He must have known that he was putting you in danger.
small>[The wings do change Crowley in slight ways; how he moves, the way that the shift and move and react. They're a part of him, for the moment at least, however much he might dislike that fact.]
Something about helping me look the part.
[His feathers ruffle in irritation and he scowls, his eyebrows tugging together briefly, before he takes a breath and calms himself. The archangel couldn't actually be intending to leave him with them..... could he?]
[Castiel moves closer, reaching to brush his fingers over the ruffling wings in a comforting manner. It's mostly instinct. He's so used to comforting his brothers and sisters like this when they look this distressed.]
It makes no sense. Look the part of what? You look like one of my brothers, but it's very obvious that you are not. You're far too awkwardly held with them.
[The touch quiets Crowley, the feathers smoothing out under the angel's fingertips. He doesn't want to admit it, but it feels like comfort. Something about the warmth, the pleasure, the way fingers card through midnight black feathers. When Castiel seems confused, it leaves the demon really only with the option of reiterating what Gabriel had said, which he'd been trying to avoid.]
He said if I was going to be a guardian angel, I should look the part.
[Crowley does not look amused by any of this, least of all by the assertion that he's anyone's guardian angel. If he spends at least one night a week making sure that the Winchesters don't commit suicide by demon, witch, or whatever else they happened to have pissed off that night? It's purely for his own self-interest.
[Castiel stills his hand, but doesn't take it back, instead resting it lightly over a joint in Crowley's wing.]
What exactly were you doing at the time?
[Castiel finds this whole situation confusing. As far as he can tell, Crowley only looks out for himself. If anything, he's an awful lot like Gabriel. Perhaps Gabriel sees a fair amount of himself in the demon. In any event, Castiel looks out for the Winchesters far more than Crowley ever would.]
[He likes this, the way that Castiel's fingers touch against the joint in his wing, even if they're not stroking over feathers. He shouldn't want to feel more of it, but he did, strange as such a reaction felt.]
I was making sure the Winchesters didn't get themselves killed in the process of ticking off what was supposed to be some pagan god.
[He'd been trying to be rather discrete about his involvement in watching over the pair, but, hiding from an angel was a bit above his paygrade. Gabriel had not seemed to buy his claim about doing it out of sheer selfish self-interest.]
What I do every Friday night, considering their interest in throwing themselves at every clawed, fanged, magical or spectral thing they can find.
[Crowley sighed in exasperation, giving Castiel a look that was supposed to reaffirm that he was only really looking out for himself. It might have been a bit less than convincing considering that an archangel seems to have given him wings over it.]
Gabriel ran away some time ago. He's been living as a pagan god. I only discovered him by accident because he had trapped Sam and Dean.
[Castiel sighs. He's had the save the Wincesters from their own risks more times than he can count. He knows how hard it can be.]
I suppose for now I'll just have to teach you to look less like you shouldn't have those.
[He runs his fingers through the feathers again, righting several strays. He's going to have to start with the grooming. No angel would go around with their feathers this messy.
He's only half-buying that Crowley's interests are only in himself. Crowley is a survivor, he knows that much, but he's risked a lot for them.]
[There had been a discussion to that point that he'd over-heard. Sam had been worried about exactly this, while Dean had been certain that Gabriel was Loki, not the Native American Coyote.]
I suppose next time I'll listen to the Moose.
[Oh, yes, making him look more like he's supposed to have wings. That's exactly what he wants. He frowns, but doesn't protest. How can he when that declaration is followed by Castiel's hands moving back to run fingers through his feathers, smoothing them out under the angel's touch.
Despite what Crowley might say about them, Gabriel actually did leave him with a rather nice pair, even if they are black as night. The black feathers are sleek, nicely shaped, and they shine almost silver where the moonlight catches through a window. They're soft, silky under Castiel's touch.
His wings shift softly into the contact, enjoying the grooming and the touch of fingers on his wings.
While I am... fond of Dean, Sam is usually correct when they disagree. I've learned that through many errors.
[Castiel is used to this, straightening feathers and smoothing down other angels' wings. He misses it. His own wings are pretty messy, but he does what he can. He's much more used to having them than Crowley is, though.]
You need to try to control these. They move too much and you broadcast everything you're feeling. I'll show you.
[He closes his eyes and concentrates for a moment on his wings so they can manifest before stretching them out. They are just a shadow of his true wings, but on this plane, they manifest as they had for Dean in the barn where they'd met.]
Mine don't move when I'm talking. Yours betray unease and surprise too easily.
[His breath is a little bit flushed from how Castiel's fingers feel in his wings, but he frowns at that revelation despite. He's not used to having them, and they seem fidgety, and he'd thought that was just some weird thing. It hadn't crossed his mind that it might just be another sort of body language.
Joy.
Castiel's wings, even if they're just painted on the wall in light and shadows, are still beautiful. And Castiel is right, his wings still and perfect. He takes a breath and tries to concentrate, stilling those slight movements of his wings that broadcast just how he feels about things. It takes effort, it's like learning how to lie all over again.]
Is that better?
[They're at least smaller, if not gone completely just yet. He has to think about it, which makes it difficult.]
It's better, but they are still tense and uncomfortable. Here.
[He starts to massage softly at a joint, moving his hand over the wing in an effort to help Crowley relax. He wonders if it's like taking a vessel for the first time after so long, how awkward it feels to move limbs that you know are not entirely your own. perhaps if he can help Crowley relax his wings, they will feel less cumbersome to him.
He feels awkward, knowing how sensitive wings can be, how intimate this touch is, but he knows that Crowley has no one else who can do this for him and he's grown somewhat attached to the demon.]
[Crowley exhales, his eyelashes fluttering, his head tipping forward as Castiel's fingers massage at one of the joint of his wings. It feels good and he can't help but wonder if it's like this with angels and their wings, or if his are strange because of the nature that he'd received them in.
He doesn't put it past Gabriel to make his wings some strange sort of erogenous zone just for his own amusement.
They relax under Castiel touch, slowly spreading, showing off his wingspan, and exposing how the bottom-most feathers aren't quite as dark as the top feathers, almost more of a deep midnight blue. His feathers press slowly into how Castiel touches them.]
It's hard not to tense, at the moment.
[Though with Castiel touching them he seems to be doing alright.]
You seem to be doing alright at relaxing them more now.
[He slides his hands to where the wings meet Crowley's back near his shoulder blades, massaging at the base of the wings softly with practiced fingers.
He knows he is not the best at comforting in human terms, but he knows how to comfort another angel and it seems to be working on Crowley's wings. He finds it oddly satisfying how he can feel the wings relaxing more and more under his hands. He doesn't mind grooming other angels, but he's never felt this satisfied doing it for someone else before.
He wonders what Gabriel really is up to with this. He knows his brother likes to play off his actions as jokes, but he usually has real motive behind them.]
[Crowley makes a rather disgruntled sort of noise at the declaration that he seems to be better relaxing. But, it's hard not to when Castiel's fingers feel so good touching against the feathers.
It seems a strange thing to take comfort from, but he can't help it. Something about the way that the touches feel; warm and snaking through his entire body so that his toes curl. His wings relaxing under the angel's touch, a sigh ever so softly breathed against his lips, his wings leaning into those fingertips.]
They don't feel quite so awkward when you're doing that.
Instead, it's Crowley, in his usual impeccable suit, but there are wings peering over his shoulders. Huge things, with black, glossy feathers that shine by the fading light. To say that Crowley looks cross would be the understatement of the century. As if having to pull the Winchesters out of the fires they seem to insist on throwing themselves into, now he has sodding wings for his trouble.
He doesn't exactly know why he's here (where else would he go?) but it somehow seemed fitting.]
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He touches Cas, so that the angel can follow, and appears at a small little house on the Eastern seacoast. The wind is sharp and howling, and there's that sinister air of ghosts and the otherworldly; thankfully most ghosts are smart enough to leave angels and demons alone unless provoked. There's a blood sigil on the wall that he touches, and it mutes his energies some, weaves it underneath the ones screaming in rage and pain for their deaths.
It's something.]
It's not home, but it should suffice.
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He studies Crowley. The demon looks so different like this. It's strange that a physical change should affect the way he looks at Crowley, but the wings are distracting to Castiel.]
Did Gabriel say anything when he did this? He must have known that he was putting you in danger.
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Something about helping me look the part.
[His feathers ruffle in irritation and he scowls, his eyebrows tugging together briefly, before he takes a breath and calms himself. The archangel couldn't actually be intending to leave him with them..... could he?]
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[Castiel moves closer, reaching to brush his fingers over the ruffling wings in a comforting manner. It's mostly instinct. He's so used to comforting his brothers and sisters like this when they look this distressed.]
It makes no sense. Look the part of what? You look like one of my brothers, but it's very obvious that you are not. You're far too awkwardly held with them.
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He said if I was going to be a guardian angel, I should look the part.
[Crowley does not look amused by any of this, least of all by the assertion that he's anyone's guardian angel. If he spends at least one night a week making sure that the Winchesters don't commit suicide by demon, witch, or whatever else they happened to have pissed off that night? It's purely for his own self-interest.
Well. Mostly.]
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What exactly were you doing at the time?
[Castiel finds this whole situation confusing. As far as he can tell, Crowley only looks out for himself. If anything, he's an awful lot like Gabriel. Perhaps Gabriel sees a fair amount of himself in the demon. In any event, Castiel looks out for the Winchesters far more than Crowley ever would.]
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I was making sure the Winchesters didn't get themselves killed in the process of ticking off what was supposed to be some pagan god.
[He'd been trying to be rather discrete about his involvement in watching over the pair, but, hiding from an angel was a bit above his paygrade. Gabriel had not seemed to buy his claim about doing it out of sheer selfish self-interest.]
What I do every Friday night, considering their interest in throwing themselves at every clawed, fanged, magical or spectral thing they can find.
[Crowley sighed in exasperation, giving Castiel a look that was supposed to reaffirm that he was only really looking out for himself. It might have been a bit less than convincing considering that an archangel seems to have given him wings over it.]
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[Castiel sighs. He's had the save the Wincesters from their own risks more times than he can count. He knows how hard it can be.]
I suppose for now I'll just have to teach you to look less like you shouldn't have those.
[He runs his fingers through the feathers again, righting several strays. He's going to have to start with the grooming. No angel would go around with their feathers this messy.
He's only half-buying that Crowley's interests are only in himself. Crowley is a survivor, he knows that much, but he's risked a lot for them.]
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I suppose next time I'll listen to the Moose.
[Oh, yes, making him look more like he's supposed to have wings. That's exactly what he wants. He frowns, but doesn't protest. How can he when that declaration is followed by Castiel's hands moving back to run fingers through his feathers, smoothing them out under the angel's touch.
Despite what Crowley might say about them, Gabriel actually did leave him with a rather nice pair, even if they are black as night. The black feathers are sleek, nicely shaped, and they shine almost silver where the moonlight catches through a window. They're soft, silky under Castiel's touch.
His wings shift softly into the contact, enjoying the grooming and the touch of fingers on his wings.
He really shouldn't like this so much.]
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[Castiel is used to this, straightening feathers and smoothing down other angels' wings. He misses it. His own wings are pretty messy, but he does what he can. He's much more used to having them than Crowley is, though.]
You need to try to control these. They move too much and you broadcast everything you're feeling. I'll show you.
[He closes his eyes and concentrates for a moment on his wings so they can manifest before stretching them out. They are just a shadow of his true wings, but on this plane, they manifest as they had for Dean in the barn where they'd met.]
Mine don't move when I'm talking. Yours betray unease and surprise too easily.
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[His breath is a little bit flushed from how Castiel's fingers feel in his wings, but he frowns at that revelation despite. He's not used to having them, and they seem fidgety, and he'd thought that was just some weird thing. It hadn't crossed his mind that it might just be another sort of body language.
Joy.
Castiel's wings, even if they're just painted on the wall in light and shadows, are still beautiful. And Castiel is right, his wings still and perfect. He takes a breath and tries to concentrate, stilling those slight movements of his wings that broadcast just how he feels about things. It takes effort, it's like learning how to lie all over again.]
Is that better?
[They're at least smaller, if not gone completely just yet. He has to think about it, which makes it difficult.]
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It's better, but they are still tense and uncomfortable. Here.
[He starts to massage softly at a joint, moving his hand over the wing in an effort to help Crowley relax. He wonders if it's like taking a vessel for the first time after so long, how awkward it feels to move limbs that you know are not entirely your own. perhaps if he can help Crowley relax his wings, they will feel less cumbersome to him.
He feels awkward, knowing how sensitive wings can be, how intimate this touch is, but he knows that Crowley has no one else who can do this for him and he's grown somewhat attached to the demon.]
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He doesn't put it past Gabriel to make his wings some strange sort of erogenous zone just for his own amusement.
They relax under Castiel touch, slowly spreading, showing off his wingspan, and exposing how the bottom-most feathers aren't quite as dark as the top feathers, almost more of a deep midnight blue. His feathers press slowly into how Castiel touches them.]
It's hard not to tense, at the moment.
[Though with Castiel touching them he seems to be doing alright.]
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[He slides his hands to where the wings meet Crowley's back near his shoulder blades, massaging at the base of the wings softly with practiced fingers.
He knows he is not the best at comforting in human terms, but he knows how to comfort another angel and it seems to be working on Crowley's wings. He finds it oddly satisfying how he can feel the wings relaxing more and more under his hands. He doesn't mind grooming other angels, but he's never felt this satisfied doing it for someone else before.
He wonders what Gabriel really is up to with this. He knows his brother likes to play off his actions as jokes, but he usually has real motive behind them.]
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It seems a strange thing to take comfort from, but he can't help it. Something about the way that the touches feel; warm and snaking through his entire body so that his toes curl. His wings relaxing under the angel's touch, a sigh ever so softly breathed against his lips, his wings leaning into those fingertips.]
They don't feel quite so awkward when you're doing that.
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