Red Fish Mingle

[mortalcoil]

Who: The crew and (many) visitors of the Red Fish!
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Aboard the SS Red Fish
When: Nebulously after the Great Winter Soldier Violence Spree of '16

[it was bound to happen sometime. all three captains of the SS Red Fish are hauled back home in various stages of medical distress, and things have been a little weird since then.

one of these things is the super soldier with the busted metal arm that is brought in to be kept locked up in Coil's lab for a while. turns out those restraints he'd had installed did come in handy. that's a thing.

so, whether you're here to check on one of the various ailing people here, gawk at the guy chained up in the dungeon lab, or are just trying to live your life in relative peace and sanity, come on in!]

Comments

[kickingand]

You're always-

[ Dean so badly wants to clamp down on stupid words (his definition of any words at all, truly), in the same way he always does. Say nothing at all, admit to nothing. Force meaning out from behind dark stares, hope that people understand the demands he doles out in miniscule sentences, gravel toned offerings. Because putting voice to things is a struggle, a pain he gained somewhere along the way, because why speak when nothing comes out right? When words are a tangle, a mess he can't unweave himself from.

But Cas was asleep for weeks and somewhere deep down he felt an agonized pull he couldn't escape from. Stark apologies ripped from his tongue while he sat bedside, hoping that maybe if he confessed to it enough times, if he spoke words of terrified grief, Cas would sit bolt upright and come back to him. What else could he do but worry, but tell himself that this was the life he would've given himself, this was the pain he provided through his inability to come up with a solution that kept the one thing he needed by his side.

Dean knows he should probably let go, should probably step away and collect himself and brush off the weeks of dust that collected under his skin while all he did was watch and tear himself apart with aching remorse. But he can't, not yet; Cas' shoulder is too warm and present and alive and all Dean can do is collect his mistakes and hold them that much closer, that he tried to let go of the one thing he know he needs.

Cas is his safety, his place, and he thought he knew how to give that up, only to realize in the tearing of the knots between them, that all he wants to do is hold on. ]

I didn't do anything.

[heavenonearth]

[ honestly, for all cas seems to know dean better than most, even he doesn't always completely understand what's going on in dean's head, or parse what it is he's trying to say. he has good ideas, most of the time, can more or less surmise what's likely going on behind those hazel eyes, but even then he can never be sure. dean's closed off, and cas isn't a mind reader. well, not anymore.

either way, maybe it's because he's been asleep for weeks, but cas isn't really sure what it is that dean's going on about, but it's clear enough that he's upset, and it isn't too difficult to understand why. ]

Hey.

[ cas pulls back, but just enough to look into dean's face, to dip his head to catch his eyes, one hand sliding back enough to grasp his shoulder, strong and solid. ]

Look, I'm here, all right? Don't worry so much.

[kickingand]

[ Sometimes Dean hates the way Cas looks at him - the way he knows how to peel him open without any work at all. More often than not it's useful, sure, the kind of stares stuck between them that makes it so much easier to understand without the words Dean no longer knows how to say. Cas can simply unwind his head as if there's nothing to it, can lift open the lid and uncover whatever it is that Dean's so furiously trying to keep to himself.

But at times, it makes him want to squirm, writhe away and cover his face. He doesn't want to be the open book that Cas can see and yet at times, he knows he makes it impossible to even manage that. That he's wound so tightly that even Dean isn't sure where to find himself amidst it all and so he struggles within his own silence, not knowing how to express whatever it is he's feeling when he's spent his entire life trying to shove it all so far away, into the frantic depths of wherever he cannot reach.

And yet, as Dean is at least still an infinitesimal part of the same creature he always was, it never fails to bubble its way back to the surface.

You were never supposed to go, he wants to say. You're always meant to stay. With me.]

You were gone. [ Is what he says instead, flicking his gaze down to meet Cas', managing eye contact in the way he only really ever does with Cas, with a certain level of clarity he offers to no one else. ] Kind of my job to worry.