i-think-i-have-a-problem

Castiel walks from the bunker, into the dark of the woods. There is a clearing not too far away that he likes to visit at night; away from the noise of the bunker he can hear the music of the stars. But tonight isn’t for music.

As he reaches the clearing he breathes deep and closes his eyes. He knows this will be uncomfortable–painful even–but it has to be done.

Slowly, slowly, he spreads his wings. He can no longer fly–too many of his feathers are gone–but if he doesn’t exercise them regularly he gets horrible shooting pains in his shoulder blades. Every joint, every muscle, every tendon…all pop and stretch and ping with pain. His hands ball into fists as he struggles to keep them flexed as long as possible. His eyes are still squeezed shut against the pain but he can tell without looking that his feathers barely shed any light anymore.

Who am I? he wonders. Am I still an angel without my wings?

“Cas?”

The sound of Dean’s voice snaps Cas out of his thoughts and back to the meadow. Dean’s voice. How can he put such wonder and longing into one word?

Cas’s voice is strained when he answers. “Dean. How did you find me?”

Dean laughs. “Cas, you are not very sneaky. You come to this clearing so often you’ve made a path.” And then, quietly, “Cas, your wings…”

Cas grits his teeth, covers his face with his hands. “Please…” Don’t look at them. I am a disgrace. Not truly fallen, but surely I am a broken angel. Practically useless. “They are…fading. Nothing like they used to be.”

Dean’s rough hands gently pull Cas’s away from his face. “Cas. No. Your wings…they are amazing.”

Wings still stretched wide, Cas holds perfectly still as Dean tentatively reaches out with one hand. “May I?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

Cas nods.

Careful not to dislodge any feathers, Dean runs his hand over the glossy blackness. He expects something like the parrot he’d held once in a pet store, but Cas’s wings are nothing like that. They look like a bird’s wings, but they feel like…flowing water. Silk. Rose petals. The first snowfall.

Damn.

And neither of them expects Cas’s reaction.

At the first brush of fingers on feathers Cas stiffens, and then his body shudders with pure pleasure. “Dean!” he gasps. “What are–please–don’t stop!” His arms wrap around Dean, and Dean is supporting Cas’s weight, and he is more aware of his friend than he has ever been before.

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise, and then slam shut as the dim glow from Cas’s wings suddenly brightens to a glaring, electric blue.

“Um…Cas…what is going on?” Dean rasps, his fingers still lost in the softness of feathers.

“I don’t know,” Cas manages, still shaking. “No one has ever touched my wings before. It is…I am not sure how to describe it. Wonderful.” He sounds bewildered. “But…an unexpected experience.”

Dean barks a laugh. “An unexpected experience. Cas. You lost the ability to stand properly and your wings lit up like a Christmas tree.”

The laughter abruptly falls away when Cas speaks. “Look at me, Dean. Please.”

When Dean opens his eyes the light from Cas’s wings, still vividly blue-white, has dimmed to a non-blinding level. Just inches away, Cas’s eyes gaze into his, searching.

Yes, Dean thinks, and Cas must see it in his eyes, because before he can speak their lips are pressed together, and the kiss is softer than an angel’s wings.


They walk back to the bunker hand in hand. Finally Dean breaks the silence, asks, “Cas? What was that lightshow all about?”

Shyly, Cas says, “My grace, it was reaching out to you. Responding to your touch.”

“Has that happened before?” Dean asks.

“No,” says Cas. “Never.”

Dean stops and turns to look into Cas’s eyes. “So…why now?”

Without warning Cas is kissing him again, and this time Dean is almost sure he hears the faint rustling of Cas’s wings.

When they break apart, Dean smiles. “Oh.”


100,000 thank-yous to Lindsay ( @justrandomspnstuff ) who always seems to help me find my endings…plus lots of other bits and pieces along the way. :) You are the best!!!!

OOOKAAAY SO THOR RAGNAROK WAS FREAKING AMAZING!! NO YOUDONT UNDERSTAND IT WAS SO GOOD I WANT TO CRY RIGHT NOW. YOU KNOW WHEN YOU EAT SOMETHING REALLY GOOD AND YOU CANT REMEMBER WHAT IT TASTED LIKE BUT YOU KNOW IT MADE YOU FEEL GOOD AND YOU JUST WANT TO BE EATING IT AGAIN. WELL YEAH THATS WHAT RAGNAROK IS LIKE. I NEEEEEEED TO SEE IT AGAIN. I NEED TO BE WATCHING IT RIGHT NOW.

i think im gonna cry. send help

Every time there is the slightest whiff of Pynch in the books I obsessively neeeeeed to know EVERYTHING. Like, what do you mean they “had only just been making out”??? You can’t just slip that in there and then carry on like nothing happened! I need to know what happened! Hey! Don’t just walk off and leave me here! HEY!! Come back here! COME BACK!!

So my poor, desperate, Pynch-starved brain is full of these moments that it’s filled in by itself. This one is after they’ve found Glendower dead and Henry tells Gansey to pull over and get out the car..


The Rest Stop

Their hands were on the gear stick when they saw Henry indicate. They hadn’t spoken during the drive; nothing they could say would make sense of what had happened. But Adam had slipped his palm over Ronan’s knuckles at some point, and Ronan had hooked his thumb around Adam’s little finger in response.

The BMW pulled in, coming to a stop at the far end of the rest area. Adam unclipped his seatbelt and twisted round to peer out the back window at the Fisker. 

“It’s Gansey,” he said, and Ronan went straight for the door. Adam reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Give him a minute.” 

Ronan slumped back against the headrest, staring ahead. “Is this it?” he said. “Is it just.. over?”

“I don’t know,” Adam’s hand went to his eyes, forefinger and thumb pressing at the lids as if the thoughts were threatening to spill out. As if he could rub away the images crowding his mind. “I’m not sure I know anything anymore.”

Ronan watched him. The dark furrow between his brows, the ashy shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He took Adam’s wrist and peeled his hand away from his face. Placed a finger under his chin and leant in, pressing his lips to Adam’s.

It wasn’t the fact of the kiss. It was the softness of it. Like Ronan was checking a baby bird for a pulse. With his exhaustion, with all the things inside his head that he hadn’t had time to process, with this unexpected tenderness engulfing him, Adam suddenly felt like he might cry. He pulled away from Ronan gently and made himself smile instead. “At least this part’s pretty good, huh?” 

Ronan’s smile flashed like a knife in the sun. There it was. Adam felt gravity reassemble itself inside him again. Secure once more in his body, he allowed it free rein to reach for Ronan’s shirt and pull him back in, kissing him like he’d resurfaced from drowning and Ronan was the air.

Before he closed his eyes he caught the flash of surprise in Ronan’s, and wondered with a smile inside when he would stop doing that. When they would both stop doing it. Right now he didn’t care. Right now he wanted to stop thinking altogether. 

As if reading his mind, Ronan lent across the seats, pushing Adam back against the window. As his body slid down under Ronan’s weight, he let his mind slide away from his thoughts. Just this, he thought. After everything they’d been through, he could allow himself just a moment of this.

Ever just wake up thirsty af for that one villain character that you really have no business being so utterly in love with, but you just cant seem to help yourself so you just stare at a gif of him for half an hour cause you have no idea what to do with your life or how to reassemble the shattered pieces of your sanity that has come from being obsessed with a fictional man?