1. DEAN IS IN ONE OF THOSE MOODS. Report to the nearest fallout shelter.winchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 02:53:41 UTC
[It's been a bad week. On the last supply run, he watched one of their own get dragged off by the Crotes, and another got infected. Dean shot the poor guy himself on the way back. And, they didn't manage to get any whiskey, which means that Dean's been out of the poison that keeps him tolerable for most of the week now.
So, it's not too surprising when he snaps. That doesn't justify it, of course. And later he'll feel guilty, he'll be trying to apologize without actually having to say he's sorry, because he cares for Cass, even if he's never been good at admitting he was wrong. But, it's the fact that he cares that makes Cass the person he ends up lashing out at.
He snarls, fingers curling and aiming a nice right hook -- that the other man really doesn't deserve -- for Cass' jaw.]
Shut. Up.
[Somehow, it always ends up being Cass he ends up scuffling with in moods like these.]
RUN FOR THE HILLS OH GOD. \D8/heavenonhighSeptember 29 2011, 03:25:19 UTC
[Honestly, Cas should have seen this coming. He knows what a rough week it's been; they'd lost more refugees than usual (which is saying something, because, well, apocalypse now) and he knows that as the leader of their merry band those losses hit Dean harder than most. He plays the part of the stoic man-in-charge so well it's sometimes easy to forget that every life lost, every bullet that finds its home in the head of a fellow refugee they'd all gotten to know... It was like grinding salt into an already festering wound.
So he really should have seen it coming. He doesn't, though, because he's stoned as hell and he's in the middle of going on about who knows what, probably somesuch new pseudo-religious nonsense he plans on sharing with his flock of devotees, when Dean's fist connects squarely with his jaw. He staggers back, bringing his hand up to cup his throbbing face. When he moves it away, he can see the bright slash of blood, presumably from a split lip.]
The fuck, Dean? [His posture shifts, where before it had been
( ... )
POOR CASS. XDDwinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 04:25:30 UTC
[The fact that Dean gets jealous really doesn't help things, of course. Oh, not that he'll ever admit to it, not even really to himself. After all, he's the one that showed Cass that the best balms for the soul were sex and intoxicants. But after what sort of week it's been and Cass babbling some new-age-sounding bullshit he's almost certain is going to end up as the sermon before the orgy sometime in the next few days, he can't help himself. He doesn't even feel bad when the former-angel curses in shock
( ... )
Lmao I can just see him being like BLAH BLAH GROUP MI- WHAT THE FFFFFFUUUUCCCKKK D8<heavenonhighSeptember 29 2011, 04:43:37 UTC
[Dean doesn't show any sign of stopping, and Cas is not in the mood to be a punching bag tonight. He brings his hand up to block the next fist that comes flying at his face and shoves down on the elbow of Dean's other arm, the one with its hand fisted in his shirt. Bringing his palm up he catches Dean in the chin and knocks him off balance. If he'd been a little less out of it up he might have been able to actually throw him down, but that isn't happening right now. And truthfully, as pissed as he is about the sucker punch his goal is only to stop Dean from coming at him like a lunatic... For the moment, anyway.
He's tolerant of the rudeness and the snark, and the occasional uncalled for remark about his leisure activities, because he knows that Dean has worries he himself can sometimes afford to avoid, but even he draws the line somewhere. If it comes down to it, he's willing to give as good as he gets.]
LOL YES. Dean is jealous and upset and has no Whiskey. Cass is screwed. :Pwinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 05:29:59 UTC
[If anything, the fact that Cass is starting to defend himself, just encourages him. Dean has long found barbrawls as an acceptable way to burn off tension. This doesn't work as well when there aren't really any bars left, but the intention remains the same. Conflict. Because he hurts, hurts so much, and he can't, he doesn't know how to say it. And so he doesn't.
Instead, he settles for shifting his feet to try and catch his balance, and then launching another fist at the former-angel. His hazel-green eyes glitter with hurt and stress and a need for something, and so he settles with this. Although, Dean is so tense he's not in the best of shape either.]
He definitely is XDheavenonhighSeptember 29 2011, 16:31:27 UTC
[He's not quite fast enough to knock away the next fist that hurtles at him; it hits him square in the chest and takes his breath away. Okay, no more fucking around, then. Gasping and clutching at his chest, he draws back and throws a punch. His outer knuckles skid against the side of Dean's face; not quite a solid hit but he's still a little disoriented from that first blow to his jaw.
He hadn't intended on getting into a brawl with Dean tonight, but now that there's adrenalin pumping through his system and a throbbing pain in his head he's finding himself a lot more open to the idea. All the anger at their situation and his and Dean's roles in it that he's tried to bury with the drinking and the drugs and the sex is bubbling up inside of him-- an impotent rage at his powerlessness. He throws another punch, aim a little bit better for the rush.]
[It is disturbingly satisfying when his fist catches Cass in the chest, the impact only slightly muted by the clothes the other man wears. There's an undeniable sick sort of glee at the violence, the raw aggression that surges through him at the contact. This is a high too. And one he's rather intent on riding out until the pain is muted and quiet, until he can deal. There's a certain measure of satisfaction on hurting Cass, because the former-angel and his fucking orgies cuts deep, even if he's not well-adjusted enough to fucking sayit, instead of taking it out in violence and sex with other people he doesn't really care about.
Jealousy is a green-eyed bitch.
He grunts as that first fist connects, knuckles scraping against his stubbled jaw. The second punch catches him in the cheek, snapping his head to the side and he growls in frustration as he staggers. He lunges for Cass, trying to make contact again because adrenaline is singing in his veins, making this feel hot and alluring, even though it's so very wrong.]
[Again he fails to get out of the way in time and Dean's body slams into his, knocking him backwards into the wall. There's a sick crack as his head bangs into the hard surface, and he's seeing stars of the totally unpleasant variety. He swings his fist up, slamming it into Dean's stomach and reveling in the grunt of pain that the blow pushes through the other man's lips.
It's satisfying in a way he doesn't like to think about, hurting Dean this way. He doesn't like to admit it, but a part of him does blame Dean for this, for all of this. For his doubt, his fall, his suffering... If it wasn't for Dean, Cas's entire millennia-long existence might not have had to end this way, with him rolling in the mud waiting to die as a mortal. This part of him is pointedly ignoring the fact that it was his choice to remain on earth when the other angels left, his choice (though he'd been helped along) to let Sam out of the panic room all those years ago, ultimately his choice to rebel at all. This part of him isn't exactly rational
( ... )
I somehow forsee this turning into equally violent making out at some point, lol. /pervswinchester_lostSeptember 29 2011, 23:12:37 UTC
[Dean groans in pain as Cass' fist hits his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and making him jerk forward. He growls in frustration, and swings at Cass, trying to take advantage of the fact that he has him up against the wall. This isn't going particularly well for either of them, admittedly. Blood is dribbling from Dean's split lip down his chin, his lips are wet with the thick fluid that tinges the air with that scent of copper.
It's easier like this than it would be to explain in words, to let out all the tension that's been eating him alive. It's easier to just ride the waves of adrenaline, venting all that anger and frustration because he cares, because Dean forgot and he ended up in love with him all over again and that hurts. He aims another fist at the former-angel's chest, and the fact that Cass gives as good as he gets just makes this more sickly seductive.]
OH GOOD SO I'M NOT ALONE 8'DheavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 00:47:06 UTC
[Dean's fist slams into his chest again and he's coughing, wheezing, hand gripping into the lapel of the hunter's jacket. He can't catch his breath; it's coming in small gasps and pants and he can't see straight for the pain. The blood in the air and running down his face is making him feel dizzy, it's filling all of his senses; he can smell it, taste it on his tongue, hear it where it's pounding in his ears. Maybe it's better this way, better than trying to talk things out with words. Words had never been their strong suit, it wasn't the way they'd operated, why should now be any different?
He doesn't want to feel anymore, he wishes he could be his former self and just not care about anything but what he was told to care about. He punches these wishes into Dean, aim haphazard, sluggish jerks of his fists as he tries to take in a breath. He manages to land a weak uppercut, knuckles scraping across a stubbled chin, but he can't get Dean to let go of him. Probably for the best, if he's honest, because he's so dizzy he doubts
( ... )
WE COULD START A CLUB xDwinchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 01:56:42 UTC
[Dean's grunting as Cass' fists land haphazardly against his torso, punching that desire not to feel into Dean, and the hunter echoes the sentiment. Fists hit hard enough to leave bruises, but not hard enough to make him stop this. Dean refuses to let go of him, because no matter how much it hurts, he's always holding on to Cass. Even if now is more literal than usual. His gaze falters, tracing the trail of blood down the former angel's face instead of hitting him again, and suddenly it's like being pulled apart, wanting too much
( ... )
THE BEST OF CLUBS.heavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 02:59:33 UTC
[For a second he thinks he's done for, he can see Dean's punch coming and knows he can't bring his arms up to block it in time, but when the blow comes it's not what he was expecting, just a weak push of knuckles to his skin. It's still enough to daze him, because he'd been anticipating so much worse, and when he comes to his senses Dean's mouth is pressing into his and it's so wrong but he wants it anyway. Teeth scrape against his lip where it's split and bleeding and he knows he should stop, shove Dean off of him and fight back... But he can't bring himself to do it
( ... )
NOTHING COULD BE MORE AWESOME. <3winchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 03:09:55 UTC
[Dean moans into the kiss, a hitch of breath, something almost like a twisted whine as it feels so much. His hand on Cass is pulling him closer, harder against him as his teeth nip and scrape at battered lips split on his own knuckles. His other hand is sliding into the shorts strands of Cass' hair. He knows this is screwed up, but he can't help himself, because under all that anger, all that hurt and aggression is this.
It hurts because he cares, because he wants, craves this. He can smell the weed overlaying with the blood and the scent of Cass' skin because they're so damn close, but it's still almost not close enough and all that he can do is pull him closer. Jealous and hurt and between the violence and touching, it's almost soothing, almost a balm against injury he doesn't want to admit to.]
Most definitely *o*heavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 04:02:22 UTC
[Fingers are winding their way into his hair and Cas is whimpering now, though the sound is muted against Dean's lips, cracked and still bleeding against his own as they slide together. His hands move against his will, down Dean's body and inside his jacket. He can feel the skin burning through the fabric of his shirt, and all he wants is that heat under his hands, wants to scratch and bite and tear at it. He wants to feel it under his fingers, and he hates himself for wanting it. Hates Dean a little bit too, for letting him have it. He tugs the shirt out from where it had been tucked into Dean's pants and gives in, nails scraping, digging into the skin of the hunter's sides and back and he hopes he's leaving bruises.
Sighing into Dean's mouth, he feels his knees start to buckle and it just makes him grip tighter, dig blunt nails in just a little bit more, trying to keep as little space between them as possible while he tries to hold himself up.]
This is amaaaaazing. :Dwinchester_lostSeptember 30 2011, 04:41:08 UTC
[He can taste the blood between their battered lips and it makes him shiver, makes him pull Cass harder against him, because he's craved this. And he's not sure if the former-angel will understand, will forgive him for this, but he can't let go (Cass isn't hitting him, isn't pushing him away, but their kisses are still like fighting, but it's enough to make him wonder, but not enough to let him care). He's arching into Cass' hands as they slide down his body, through the fabric of his shirt that feels too thin. Too thin when he can feel Cass' hands like fire, like the scorching trail of a brand. He's gasping, breathing Cass' air when nails dig into skin and he forgets to breathe through his nose
( ... )
It really, really is. Enjoying it more than I have any right to hahahahaheavenonhighSeptember 30 2011, 13:19:51 UTC
[His fingers are branding Dean's skin, they're on fire, searing bloody, bruising marks there because they can. The rational part of Cas's brain is screaming for him to stop this, but the rational part has had no part of this night at all and Cas isn't about to let it take over now, not when the rest of him is thrumming with closer closer closer, and his body's arching into Dean's. He breaks the kiss only to drag his mouth across Dean's face, stubble burning and scratching his abused lips. His teeth close around the flesh of Dean's neck and he's sucking a deep bruise into the skin. The handprint isn't enough, the burning trails of his fingers aren't enough; Cas's entire body, the fact that it's his body at all are all signs of Dean's ownership, and Cas won't stop until Dean is as blatantly marked as he is
( ... )
So, it's not too surprising when he snaps. That doesn't justify it, of course. And later he'll feel guilty, he'll be trying to apologize without actually having to say he's sorry, because he cares for Cass, even if he's never been good at admitting he was wrong. But, it's the fact that he cares that makes Cass the person he ends up lashing out at.
He snarls, fingers curling and aiming a nice right hook -- that the other man really doesn't deserve -- for Cass' jaw.]
Shut. Up.
[Somehow, it always ends up being Cass he ends up scuffling with in moods like these.]
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So he really should have seen it coming. He doesn't, though, because he's stoned as hell and he's in the middle of going on about who knows what, probably somesuch new pseudo-religious nonsense he plans on sharing with his flock of devotees, when Dean's fist connects squarely with his jaw. He staggers back, bringing his hand up to cup his throbbing face. When he moves it away, he can see the bright slash of blood, presumably from a split lip.]
The fuck, Dean? [His posture shifts, where before it had been ( ... )
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He's tolerant of the rudeness and the snark, and the occasional uncalled for remark about his leisure activities, because he knows that Dean has worries he himself can sometimes afford to avoid, but even he draws the line somewhere. If it comes down to it, he's willing to give as good as he gets.]
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Instead, he settles for shifting his feet to try and catch his balance, and then launching another fist at the former-angel. His hazel-green eyes glitter with hurt and stress and a need for something, and so he settles with this. Although, Dean is so tense he's not in the best of shape either.]
Reply
He hadn't intended on getting into a brawl with Dean tonight, but now that there's adrenalin pumping through his system and a throbbing pain in his head he's finding himself a lot more open to the idea. All the anger at their situation and his and Dean's roles in it that he's tried to bury with the drinking and the drugs and the sex is bubbling up inside of him-- an impotent rage at his powerlessness. He throws another punch, aim a little bit better for the rush.]
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Jealousy is a green-eyed bitch.
He grunts as that first fist connects, knuckles scraping against his stubbled jaw. The second punch catches him in the cheek, snapping his head to the side and he growls in frustration as he staggers. He lunges for Cass, trying to make contact again because adrenaline is singing in his veins, making this feel hot and alluring, even though it's so very wrong.]
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It's satisfying in a way he doesn't like to think about, hurting Dean this way. He doesn't like to admit it, but a part of him does blame Dean for this, for all of this. For his doubt, his fall, his suffering... If it wasn't for Dean, Cas's entire millennia-long existence might not have had to end this way, with him rolling in the mud waiting to die as a mortal. This part of him is pointedly ignoring the fact that it was his choice to remain on earth when the other angels left, his choice (though he'd been helped along) to let Sam out of the panic room all those years ago, ultimately his choice to rebel at all. This part of him isn't exactly rational ( ... )
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It's easier like this than it would be to explain in words, to let out all the tension that's been eating him alive. It's easier to just ride the waves of adrenaline, venting all that anger and frustration because he cares, because Dean forgot and he ended up in love with him all over again and that hurts. He aims another fist at the former-angel's chest, and the fact that Cass gives as good as he gets just makes this more sickly seductive.]
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He doesn't want to feel anymore, he wishes he could be his former self and just not care about anything but what he was told to care about. He punches these wishes into Dean, aim haphazard, sluggish jerks of his fists as he tries to take in a breath. He manages to land a weak uppercut, knuckles scraping across a stubbled chin, but he can't get Dean to let go of him. Probably for the best, if he's honest, because he's so dizzy he doubts ( ... )
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It hurts because he cares, because he wants, craves this. He can smell the weed overlaying with the blood and the scent of Cass' skin because they're so damn close, but it's still almost not close enough and all that he can do is pull him closer. Jealous and hurt and between the violence and touching, it's almost soothing, almost a balm against injury he doesn't want to admit to.]
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Sighing into Dean's mouth, he feels his knees start to buckle and it just makes him grip tighter, dig blunt nails in just a little bit more, trying to keep as little space between them as possible while he tries to hold himself up.]
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