hardhearted | ic inbox ; exitvoid

[ mmrrgh, no--

dean is further in the room, rounding on cas with a vicious tone. ]

He's gonna play you, dumbass. [ it's the devil, there is no making deals with him, no letting him fucking kill him-- none of that crap. ]

I'm not letting you do this, Cas, there's no way.

[ he's not letting cas get killed over something this dumb, this moronic. ]

So just forget it, right now.

No.

[ And he's leaning into the argument now, stepping up to meet him so there's less space between them than before. This is something he's used to, and for some strange reason, he's glad it hasn't changed. Even if it's frustrating him to no end. ]

Why not try? If I die, I'll come back. If I don't-- [ Then Lucifer is going to be dead, though temporarily. ] Isn't that what you want?

[ Isn't that what he's always wanted? What he can't stop thinking about? ]

[ it takes only a couple words from cas for dean to react, to lash out. his hand shoots out, damaged arm and all, curls into the front of cas' shirt and hauls him closer- close enough for dean to all but growl in his face. ]

Not if it means you die-- [ he sucks in a breath then, the words laced with something fractured, angry.

death here, it shouldn't be taken so lightly. it's something dean hates about this place, or maybe only when it doesn't concern him. but he can't... he can't let cas die for some attempt at asking lucifer the dumbest thing ever.

grip tight, painfully so, dean doesn't even realize the newly stitched and bound wound is starting to dampen with a deeper red color as opposed to the pink stain from before. still, he doesn't let go, only gives cas a shake. ]

I can't have that-- so don't you dare.

[ There's no fighting the fact he's angry, doing nothing to stop Dean from dragging him in by the front of his shirt and shaking him. Castiel's eyes are on his face, some attempt to decipher what it is he sees and what he hears.

It's such a funny thing, having thought Dean might not have cared.

And it's not as if Castiel takes it lightly. Dying isn't pleasant and the aftermath of it is worse than its cause, but having this here, having that audible evidence thrust in his face the way it is-- He has to consider what it's really supposed to mean. So he doesn't want him to die, but he would sacrifice himself instead? The hypocrisy is outstanding, and his own anger reflects back, gripping Dean's wrist and squeezing it hard. ]

Why? [ He scowls. ] I've done it before, and I will do it again if I have to.

[ Again and again and again. ]

We might not have another chance if we continue to wait.

[ despite the sharp pain around his wrist, dean doesn't let go of cas. hypocritical maybe, but dean has no problem with it, not when this is about cas' life and keeping him alive, too. he could die-- he could die a hundred times, but dean isn't about to let cas willingly walk to his death. not anymore.

maybe that's just another change that has come about with being in zelien. ]

No, you won't-- I won't let you.

[ there's finality in his voice, something that won't waver. ]

You and Sam, both of you just-- keep dyin'. It's because of me, and I can't--

[ sam by his own hand, cas by his command. but no more, no more. ]

[ All his anger builds until, with those words, it just... shorts itself out.

Castiel's face immediately softens, the tight curl of his fingers around Dean's wrist loosening a fraction to ease up on it. His eyes drop for a moment, catching the darkening stain of the bandage he'd placed over the stitches, and when he looks back at him, meets his gaze head-on, there's something gentle there. Understanding, a realization he hadn't seen until now. ]

It's not because of you. [ He slides his hand up to cup the fingers digging into his shirt. ] I trust Sam to know what he's doing, and I-- it's my choice.

[ How many times is he going to have to say that? ]

I decide what I want to do. Stop blaming yourself for my decisions.

[ he doesn't want gentle, he doesn't want-- this. he needs cas to understand that he can't do this, that he cant' approach lucifer with some half-assed plan about talking, about asking for his death. the devil won't do it, and it'll end with cas broken and dead on the ground.

and he might not come back.

he might not return. ]

It's still your blood on my hands.

[ his arm is a mess by now, staining deeper with every passing minute. but he doesn't care, just clings to cas like if he lets go he'll lose him for good.

when did it turn like this, when did he start caring-- ]

[ He still frowns at him.

Whatever's going to be left after this, whatever they're meant to have isn't going to be easy. Nothing ever is, reminding himself of that fact as he looks at Dean and listens to him and desperately tries to fight the urge to push him away. He can do this, he wants to argue. He knows he can. Because he doesn't have the strength of an angel doesn't make him weak or useless, and he's thought about it, every possible outcome--

Maybe it won't do any good. Maybe this is stupid, and they should stop trying before it turns out wrong. Last night, the week before. The weeks before that too. All of it comes to together and ends sour with this mission of theirs. ]

Then what do you want me to do?

[ The words are soft, mumbled under his breath, and Castiel drops his gaze to Dean's arm. He needs to see to it, fix it so it stops hurting. But he can't. He doesn't have the touch, and everything he lays his hands on now turns bad. ]

Nothing we've done has ever worked. I have to do something.

[ what does he think? ]

Just-- [ don't do it.

it's insane, asking that. it's their mission, they should be taking any chance they can, but this is just too fishy, too unpredictable. and dean doesn't want to mess with death, not when it's cas' life on the line.

so he doesn't ask it. he bites back the words, those walls of sealing themselves shut over his face again. ]

We'll figure out something else-- I'll figure out something. But I won't put you in danger, and I won't let you either.

[ not anymore, when cas means something more to him than he might have ever realized.

he lets go of cas, steps back with his arms falling to his sides. and the threat that comes a moment later, it lacks the usual promise of violence despite the words. hell, his eyes are barely on cas as he says it; ]

If you do this... I'll make you regret it.

[ Castiel keeps quiet after that, eyes still focused on his arm even as Dean pulls away and says what he thinks he should. His fearless leader, of course. Even if there's a hint of something else in what he's telling him, something he doesn't want to touch and almost feels afraid to point out, he can't help thinking that's what it's come down to. Because he lets Dean tell him what to do doesn't mean Castiel is going to listen, but he surrenders here, giving up the fight with only the slightest shake of his head.

The tension in his mouth says it too, the way his fingers curl at his side. ]

Okay. [ It's not okay. ] But you have to talk to me. Stop trying to do this by yourself.

[ Let him share in that weight. Let him take it from his shoulders and carry it for a while. It's only the two of them, despite Sam being there, and Castiel can't have Dean taking the brunt of the responsibility when he's willing to do so much more. There's a slight pause, and then, quiet as ever, he moves toward him to finally take hold of his injured arm to look at it. ]

I told you to be careful. [ Said as he pulls lightly at the bandage. ]

[ just like how cas doesn't promise to not go, dean can't promise to come to cas about anything. he can't, won't drag cas into the these messes, not anymore.

not in zelien. not if he can help it.

cas is reaching out to touch his arm when dean realizes he's saying something else. blinking down to where the other man's fingers go to touch the bandage, he's not sure what to say. so he doesn't say anything, just remains there, green scanning cas' face carefully... and then dropping to his newly bleeding wound.

it hurts, pulses of nerve twisting pain, throbbing through his arm again. ]

You don't have to worry.

[ he starts pulling away with that, intent on looking after the wound by himself. ]

[ Which is the entirely wrong thing to do, Castiel tightening his grip on Dean's forearm. ]

I know how to handle you - remember?

[ There's not even a hint of teasing in those words, rather serious despite the connotation they hold. What Dean had told him right before he'd passed out, of course, and Castiel had spent the entire night thinking about it in terms of just how true it was. He pulls him back in an effort to lead him closer to the table. A second passes, and he decides to be firm, using a rather familiar tone of voice. ]

Sit, and let me look at it. [ Don't argue with him. It'll only take a second. ]

[ a beat, and dean lets a quiet tch slip. ]

Just another thing I shouldn't have said.

[ the familiar tone only rubs him the wrong way, has him wanting to walk away, leave this all behind. this meeting -- conversation -- has gone so wrong, so unlike what he had expected walking into the room.

he needs the space, much like he had when he'd left early this morning, when he'd left cas behind to sleep longer. ]

I can take care of it.

[ said as he snatches his hand back. ]

[ He wants to keep pressing, but Castiel figures he's probably overstepped plenty with everything that's happened so far. So, he doesn't chase trying to take Dean's arm again. He doesn't bother looking at him either, expression tight and tension visible in his shoulders.

What's the point if it's just going to keep happening over and over again anyway? Castiel stands clueless as to what's going on between them, and his face falls just a fraction before he can shrug it off as best he can--like it doesn't matter he's being shoved out again. Which, of course, means lashing out in passive aggressive fashion. He grabs at the box and slides it right across the table at him. ]

Then take care of it.

[ Not another word, and he turns his back to him, moving across the room to grab some of his things so he can head out. ]

[ dean isn't entirely sure what's going on between them anymore either, but right now he doesn't care much, frustration and the pain from his arm mixing and creating a rather bad mood.

which results in one thing, and only one, when castiel sends the box his way with the snappy demand he take care of it.

dean shoves it back, sends the box skidding along the table rather roughly at that, the lid falling open and multiple things scattering out. ]

Don't need it.

[ he'll find his own way of fixing his arm... or not, but whatever. ]

[ Castiel's checking through the bag he usually carries with him when he hears the sound of various objects rolling around and dropping onto the floor, and he immediately stops, dropping the things in his hands to face him. He slowly walks back toward him, glancing from the box to Dean with a look that clearly says he's not amused. ]

Don't be stupid. [ He reaches for some of the gauze that's rolled out, tossing it back inside. ] Do you want it to get infected?

[ Castiel adds a few more random things back into it, and then, without really thinking about it, shoves it right back in Dean's direction. He's not going to tolerate his childish behavior because he won't tell him what's going on or where he'd been or why he'd ran out before he'd woken up. Why he won't let support the idea he's presented him with. ]

Use it.

[ this is pathetic, dean knows. but he's feeling petty, has had his feathers ruffled something fierce, and what with talk of cas' stupid plan-- he could be doing better. cas' calm demeanor doesn't nothing help him, or the way he picks up the fallen items and places them back.

once it's shove back at him, it takes very little for dean to snap. all of it builds over, everything that's between them. the unspoken, the spoken, this anger and worry and want-- it's all there, a mumbled mess dean has no hope of clearing.

of understanding. and he wonders if he ever will.

the box goes flying this time, swiped off the table and clattering onto the floor with force. ]

Don't tell me what to do.

[ even if his arm burns, the pain of it spreading. but his hand remains curled into a fist at his side, tense despite the wound. ]

[ He stands there with his hands resting flat on the table, oddly composed through the tantrum and mess Dean creates by pushing everything onto the floor. Clean bandages, antiseptic, needles, and plenty of other things they'd kept just in case--it didn't mean anything now. He looks at it for a second before stepping back and immediately rounding the table to crowd right into that precious personal space of his. ]

And then what? [ He never listens to him anyway. Why should this be any different? ] Are you going to do that to me too?

[ Throw him away, ignore him. Pretend it doesn't matter. Castiel catches himself before he can say anything else, breath a little ragged from getting so worked up over this. Which shouldn't surprise him. They fight all the time anymore about everything. But it makes him shake, makes him think outrageously idiotic things. He's so close to walking out-- ]

You're being petulant.

[ finally, a spark of anger. something for dean to latch onto, to use against him, something--

the words stop him short. are you going to do that to me too?

of course not, he wants to say, to snap. wants to press it against cas' mouth, a desire that sparks even if he's so angry right now, could hurt something, twist it until it screams. he steps closer, too, eyes flashing dangerously like he's ready to shove cas. ]

And you were bein' a moron.

[ with that idiotic plan. ]

Hell, I'm freakin' surprised you haven't left yet.

[ it's what you do, right. ]

[ He meets him head-on, eyes level with his and expression set into something vacant and thin around the edges of his mouth. It's not so much anger as it is doubt that wages war inside him, squeezing his fingers until they hurt. Then, it's just a matter of lifting a hand and prodding him in the chest. ]

Stop tempting me. [ Push, push, push. His finger bends a little. ] Or I will.

[ Despite the fact he doesn't want to. That's not why he's here. That's not why he puts himself through all of this. That's not why he'd thought Dean would see reason in Castiel coming to him in the first place. His plan isn't meant for the present; it's meant to be long-term, to be settled in the future so they don't have to worry about things like this. So there might actually be something worth doing with the rest of their lives that doesn't include Lucifer or Zelien. A lost cause, perhaps, but Castiel hopes.

His face scrunches a bit, words slipping free. ]

I don't understand you. Why is it so difficult for you to let me-- [ He scoffs. ] Never mind. [ Nope. Not asking. He shakes his head and turns away in order to pick up the things on the floor. ]

[ it's maybe the first time cas is forcing him to realize that, yes, it's mostly due to dean's actions that castiel ever leaves, that it's his fault, in the end. it has him stopping even with cas in his face the way he is... that is, if it weren't for the multiple jabs to the chest.

anyone else, and he'd break their arm for it.

dean's brow bunches together at the words left unsaid, and when cas turns away from him, he's already reaching out, hand clamping down onto his shoulder, twisting him back. there's no running from him, from his, he won't allow it. ]

No, you're gonna explain. Let you what? Walk to your goddamn death? Throw away everything at a chance to ask Lucifer for his life?

[ because he wants to know, and if it's something bad, he wants it out now instead of later. his hand grips down harder at the demand, too, ]

Out with it.

[ He immediately sags under the pressure of that hand, and there's a discomforting noise that leaves him when Dean presses down. It's simply a reaction, one Castiel has no real control over, but he's turning it over before he can think about it, his own arm up and reflexes trying to knock Dean's hold away. His other hand lashes out to grip the front of his clothes, curling tight.

There's a scowl across his face, somewhere very far away until he blinks Dean into focus. ]

What would I be throwing away? [ It's a breath, forcing himself to calm down. ] This is about you now - not Lucifer.

[ He'd thought they were done with that conversation. Even if he hadn't promised not to go asking, it doesn't mean he feels like pursuing an argument about it. His eyes flicker to the wound, up to Dean's face and focus briefly on his mouth. ]

Let me help you. [ That's all he feels he can do anymore. ]

[ what would i be throwing away?

it steals his breath from him in an instant. effortlessly leaves dean staring at cas like he's just sucker punched him out of nowhere. maybe he has no right to be surprised, but he is, and as much is clearly written on his face. his voice is strained now, attempting to remain sure, firm, but it's not. there's a crack, here and there, so angry, so upset. ]

You want to help me, but you also want to throw your life away over the most stupid plan? Make up your freakin' mind, Cas. But don't-- don't pin this on me, I've told you how you can help-- [ don't do this, stay with me ] -- and it ain't by tossin' away your life.

[ breathing heavy by now, he's looking right at cas, right into those familiar eyes and just willing him to see things his way. pleading him to. his voice is lower, quieter next. ]

You patchin' me up is great and all, but what I really need from you is for you to stay safe.

[ And where was that mentality the first time he'd done it? The second? Castiel catches himself before he can ask it, leaning in closer and really looking at him. He stares hard, narrowed in on the sharp green of Dean's eyes and the fading surprise flush across those features. Why does he suddenly care so much when the last several years had been the mission and only the mission? Ignoring each other and still trying to work together.

Why. ]

Do you even know what you're saying? [ His fingers tremble the tighter he grips Dean's clothes. ] It's impossible to stay safe in a place like this. We have to do everything we can-- I can't do both, Dean.

[ He forces himself to ease up, idly smoothing his hand over the front of his chest and along his shoulder. It does nothing for his nerves, wound so tight he's close to shaking and never stopping. Like so many other things between them, this feels important. This... is shaping them and making them, writing a different story that should have ended months ago. ]

You have to believe that I'll still be here tomorrow. Trust me.

[ he knows what he says contradicts everything, how everything he feels contradicts, too. ]

I know it doesn't add up, Cas, but... [ i can't lose you, can't go through that, not here, not anymore.

it feels like everything's changed, from his mission and very meaning, to how he sees those around him. it's still hard to care, most of the time, to find the effort and desire to see those around him well. aside from sam and cas, that is. especially with the latter, with his friend standing in front of him, gripping his shirt and telling him he can't do both. ]

How can I believe that when you come to me with these plans?

[ suicidal plans, plans that have no way of working, plans that will get him killed one way or another. he doesn't trust it to work, doesn't trust cas to not do it, either.

curling a hand over to his own shoulder, it covers cas', soothes the trembling. ]

I used to not believe in a tomorrow, but now... I don't- [ it's hard to force the words out, quiet as they are. ] I don't want to face one alone.

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