come_sailaway | and i will find the enemy within

Entry tags:

and i will find the enemy within

Who: Dean and You!
What: All of the above
When: late march, early april.
Where: all over.
Warnings: will be noted in the warnings ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

adult pool;

[ sometimes, you need to breathe. Even when the sea swells and rolls and dips underfoot as far as the eye can see, no land in sight, boat swaying under boots -- sometimes you just need to breathe.

And sometimes you need to do it with a drink in your hand and your feet propped up - that's what's Dean is doing. Being on another metal tube that may sink at any given moment has triggered anxiety he didn't even know he had, and, well - drinking is always a good excuse for therapy.

He can't find any rhyme or reason to what is happening in this place anyway, and after the his first soup drenching, he's not bothered to put on clothes he likes when heading out to partake. Instead, he's shied away from the buffet tables a little and is instead lounging by the pool in his newest (and lets be real, his new favorite) pair of boardshorts and a wide brimmed hat, eyes protected by a comically large pair of sunglasses, which is all that was available in the shop.

God, he looks like such a douchebag, he knows. He also doesn't care.

Cash him outside, bitches. ]

cabins;

[ Should you actually know what Dean's cabin is (and even if you don't, knock knock bitches), then he could be found there, maybe, provided his weirdo roommate isn't lurking around. Crowley's fine, it's fine, Dean doesn't get the vibe the guys gonna take his shit, but still. Weird.

He's only ever roomed in close proximity like this with his brother and his father, and sharing a cramped space with a stranger is weird. So if they're both avoiding each other, that's fine. It's totally fine.

Not awkward at all.

At any rate - he can easily be sought out there if you happen to notice the shifting patterns, or a note can be left. Whatever you fancy. If he knows you, there might be a note slipped under your door or a message sent via shiptalk; ]

hey. drinks?

wildcard;

(( ooc; make up your own! dm me at pincurls or on this account. ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Given the condition Castiel had been in upon his arrival he'd had to make do with clothes he'd taken without payment from the same gift shop. He'd only pilfered a shirt in his size and a pair of matching linen shorts, in the same blue as the shirt and unfortunately tailored for time on a cruise liner and not the straight-laced buttoned-up full coverage that he's used to.

He's been tired of the ambiguity since he'd woken in his cabin, and having to explain the state of dress because of time spent in purgatory had done nothing but clip an already short fuse. He'd made no effort to shave or fix his hair, and hadn't gone to the effort to secure shoes or sandals. His time spent thus far on the boat had been in pursuit of answers. Until he saw Dean's name on a stolen glimpse of a rooming chart that had promptly become illegible as soon as he'd seen it.

With no direct way of finding him, thanks to his own handiwork, he's had to continue the pursuit in between his constant search for answers. What brought him on deck was the need to feel the sun on his skin and the air around him, reality didn't feel quite right here and that sense of surreality made him glimpse back to Purgatory. His confidence was waning, and in restless desperation, he sometimes wondered if he'd made it out of there at all.

He'd called it Penance then but now he wasn't so sure. A weariness has made itself at home in his bones and so he's barely acknowledging his surroundings on his way past the pool when the familiar bronze glint of the freckles across the bridge of his nose catches his peripheral and the rest of him follows suit. He stops short, for a moment considering whether or not he'd truly gone insane. After unburdening Sam, maybe the damage he'd taken was permanent.] Dean?

[ The only thing at this point that Dean is lacking is a tanning mirror, and he's thinking if he looked hard enough, he'd probably find one.

As it is, he's sprawled out on a deck chair like a Greek god bedecked in the most ridiculous cruisewear to be had, but technically - that isn't his fault. The ships store seems hell bent on humiliating the guests at all costs, but at least there was sunscreen, which he is also slathered in. He's not lucky enough to brown like a berry, but instead burns like a lobster, so he comes resplendent in board shorts and smelling like coconuts.

He's also half asleep )that's what happens when you drink too many hurricanes in the sun, Dean) when he hears his name in a very, very familiar voice. It drags him out of his half doze, senses perking up, and he blinks back to awareness and rips his ridiculous sunglasses off, eyes wide. ]

Cas?!

[ The smile that splits his features is resplendent; relief puncturing through the glee as he scrambles to his feet, hurrying over to the angel to grab him right up. Instinct drives him, he and Cas don't hug, not when he's from, but he does it anyway, because Cas is here and he's not alone on this god forsaken ship anymore. ]

[It's not what Castiel is expecting to see, and part of him feels like he should be looking away not staring hard at the landscape of Dean in front of him looking like something out of a different life, a different world. There were no excerpts in the books about Dean being an avid sunbather or enjoying the beach, and so it remains as unsettling as everything else about the boat they now lived on.

More unlikely yet is the gleeful way his name rolls off of Dean's tongue. They had gotten close in Purgatory, they had come to rely on each other in a way they hadn't yet in a place where all there was and all there could be was survival. He put himself on the backburner to keep Dean alive, given his skill set and his proximity to so many creatures that considered him prey. Even then, as nice as the embrace is Castiel falls silent because of it.

He's very real. Very ... slimy. Half-naked and now hugging him.]

You smell like a cocktail.

[ He doesn't think twice about grabbing Cas up, something he probably would have thought twice about, were he in his natural environment. Being yanked out of his reality and promptly deposited into another does something to a guy, and he still hasn't determined just yet if it's good or bad.

Remains to be seen. ]

Oh--

[ He eases back, then claps Cas on the shoulder, expression shifting from excitement to sheepishness, fingers digging into his shoulder, hand not yet falling. He's solid under Dean's hand, real - tangible. There's a shift somewhere behind his ribs, something tightly wound that eases, just a fraction, like he can take a sip of air and get the tiniest bit more oxygen into his lungs, now. ]

It's the sunscreen. Nice shirt, by the way. Pick that up at the gift shop?

[It's nice, the hug, better than he expected and grounding in a way he hadn't anticipated. Castiel even manages to reciprocate once that all sinks in, placing a palm over Dean's shoulder blade on the left side before they slide apart. He's uncomfortable, but not because of Dean, since his arrival he'd been stricken by whatever power is holding sway over their current predicament. Something strong enough to remove him from Purgatory and to pull Dean from an escape into the same environment.

Relief washes over him, paired with guilt — Castiel had come to dislike the unknown. Something worse always followed it, but Dean was here, and selfishly he'd rather have him than navigate all of it on his own.]

The sunscreen. [Castiel considers that for a moment, whether or not he needed it himself, and after reckoning with the fact that he'd never used it before he cast the stray thought aside.] You're trying to tan? How long has it been?

[The questions follow each other, one after the other, connected at the vowels. The light breeze rolling across the deck ruffles the shirt that gets mentioned, pushing it back from his hips billowing it side to side from the wind coming off the ocean. He still feels unarmed, uncomfortably vulnerable in the current clothes.] The only thing that really survived Purgatory was the coat and I sent it to be laundered. I got tired of the questions. I stole these. [The shirt, the shorts, brighter than he had a care for, light enough to feel like he didn't have anything on at all.] It looks like you did the same thing.

[ The touch to his skin sends a current of something as yet unidentifiable through his veins. It's casual, the hand that touches him and he presses his lips thin before he breaks back into a smile. The mark is still there, the handprint left by Castiel, a brand from an angel of heaven. ]

Eh, more trying not to burn while I bask in the sun. I've been out here about an hour.

[ The smile that stays on his face is genuine, wide and lighting up his whole expression. Cas looks good, though the scruff is throwing Dean off a little. He reaches out, chucks Cas' chin with his thumb. ]

This is a good look on you. [ The smile slips a little, replaced by confusion, head tipping to regard the angel. ] Wait, what about Purgatory, now?

[A former angel of heaven, his brothers and sisters were far from his biggest fans and after the incident with the Leviathan, he could scarcely be regarded as an angel at all.

That mark was the one good thing he did. Dean Winchester is saved. Stopping an apocalypse that would condemn the world to ash and agony, the only thing worth rebelling for had come and gone at the expense of heaven and its agents and now Dean.

The last time he'd seen him it had been in purgatory. The gentle hand on his face makes his eyes soften, it's not the first time, but it's the same gesture — one more than words, fonder than they'd been before being trapped together.]

Purgatory it's... where we were. Before, well, before I showed up here. [Never mind that he had seen Dean leave himself, with Benny in tow. Made certain of it before sentencing himself to stay behind.] What's the last thing you remember?

[ He idly rubs his thumb over Cas' stubbled jaw before finally letting his hand drop, taking the opportunity to fold his arms over his bare chest. ]

Uh, well. Sam raised the Devil a week ago, and up until right before I got here, I thought you were dead. Then you did your whole, y'know. You thing, came in, killed a couple angels, saved our collective asses, branded our damn ribs, then fluttered off.

[ So, you know. You definitely pulled a Cas. And Dean found out he's Michael's sword or some nonsense, so that's awesome. ]

Are you saying Purgatory is real? Is that something we have to worry about in addition to the damn apocalypse? The list of craptastic shit we have to deal with is getting kinda long, man.

[It's been three years, they'd thwarted the apocalypse and a couple of more after the first. Castiel's not sure where to start, how to move forward with "raised the devil," and surviving his first of many deaths.

He's silent, the memory of Dean's fingers on his face as real as the small amount of distance between them. Dean doesn't have the hard lines of time on his face, not yet. Three years made a big difference when Sam and his soul were hanging in the balance. Time spent with Lisa, ultimately in vain, and bridging that gap would be unfair. Telling him everything would be cruel and so he stands silently, the uncertainty clear on his face.]

You and your brother successfully stop the apocalypse. Purgatory doesn't become an issue until much later. It's November, 2012... for me.

We-- wait a second, how do you know that? How..

[ His brow furrows, hands dropping to his hips. November 2012...it doesn't seem possible. That other people are here from different places and times, sure. That he can accept. But Cas being from his future? It pulls at something unidentifiable in him. ]

It's barely 2010 for me. You're telling me we stop the apocalypse but then have to deal with freakin' purgatory?

It's my fault. The situation with purgatory. I thought I was doing a good thing, I was trying to fix heaven. I was wrong.

[Coming from where he'd stayed behind for penance he's still shouldering the guilt of what he'd done and been responsible for. Dean's loyalty and dedication in Purgatory had made him feel more vulnerable than ever, something he hadn't found a real place for since his arrival on the ship.] You make it out. I make sure you survive. We survive together.

[ Dean is still trying to wrap his brain around Cas being from the future, blinking owlishly at the angel as he processes what he's being told. ]

Good. That's good.

[ But there's something in him that's cracking under the surface, knowing that there's still shit to come, because there's always shit to come, there's no rest, not for someone like him. He doesn't even get the luxury of staying dead.

He sets his jaw and forces a smile, reaches to clap Cas' shoulder and steer him towards where Dean's been sitting. ]

C'mon. Have a drink, stay a while.

You didn't think so at first.

[Not that Dean has ever withheld his opinions from him. That's part of what made their friendship stand the test of time, they were honest with one another. Even if it meant casual cruelty in the face of ignorance.

Castiel looks around, it's not like there's anything better to do. He can't burn, and at most, his vessel would just get tanner so he relents and finds a seat on the beach chair beside Dean's.]

What are we drinking?

[ Well, that doesn't surprise him much. Just from the few brief sentences he's gotten, he can tell there's a lot more to this story than Cas is giving. But he's glad they got out - both of them.

It's just extremely exhausting to find out more awaits them. Dean has been tired and ready to throw in the towel since he was twenty-six, if not long before, maybe sometime around seventeen, when he'd had to burn the bones of lesbian nuns and listen to their screams on his birthday.

Thanks, Daddy. ]

Hurricanes. Full of liquor, they're sneaky bastards. Drink up, you have some catching up to do.

Hurricane. Rum and passion fruit?

[Dean typically went for much stronger liquor but he also took what he could get and there's only so much available to them here. Rum wasn't bad, he didn't mind it, and so he takes the glass from Dean and has a generous swallow. After what he'd been through, the lack of consistency with their timeline, and the ambiguity of the ship itself Castiel didn't mind having a little (or a lot in his case) booze and the subsequent buzz.]

I don't think I need to say it, but the fact that we're both here means that there's more to this ship than what meets the eyes.

Yeah.

[ Shush, they're good. Flavorful and sweet and full of rum. He'll order another round for them both, why the hell not. ]

No kidding, Optimus. What gave you that impression? [ It's ribbing, teasing, and he grins at Cas and gives a vague gestures. ]

Ghosts everywhere, weirdo roommates, it's a cluster.

Edited 2022-04-12 21:14 (UTC)

[That's kind of him. Castiel still feels distinctly out of place, and that feeling has only been made worse by knowing they were both dealing with some sort of time paradox.

When he sits in the pool chair he doesn't lean all the way back, he rests his forearms on his knees.]

And no bodies for you to salt and burn. That must drive you crazy.

[He ignores the name Optimus, but only tilts his head slightly. He knows it's a reference, but he's learned not to ask.] Who's your roommate?

It's kinda frustrating, yeah.

[ More than. Equally so because he can't get through certain doors, and the mystery keeps getting deeper and deeper with no real way for Dean to find any answers.

Or...any of them, for that matter.

Still, it's sidelined now that Cas is here, for the time being, anyway. Dean settles on the chair beside him where he'd been sitting, boat shoes and a book resting on the deck next to a discarded, obnoxiously pink shirt. He just watches Cas, taking him in, peach fuzz and all. It's a relief to see him again, alive and well, and something tight in Dean's gut eases a fraction. ]

Who what?

[ Oh. Right. ]

His name is Crowley.

At least you've found a way to relax. There was a time when I didn't think that was possible.

[Looking at him now though, it's clearly a possibility. He never thought he'd see Dean like this. In board shorts, no t-shirt, and sunglasses like a tourist in Miami. His blue eyes linger too long on bronze skin, and he moves his gaze from there when he catches it and onto the horizon.]

Your roommate is Crowley? You didn't tell me he was here.

[It's what he should have led with. The king of hell, but Dean doesn't know that Crowley yet. He doesn't know that Crowley betrayed them both and continues to whenever it suits his purposes.]

I've found three hurricanes do the trick.

[ He flashes Cas a little wink, then pulls his shades back down over his eyes and kicks his feet up on his chair, crossing his ankles. For all he hates flying and floating death tubes, he's certainly acclimated himself.

Either that, or its the rum that's got him open and easy. Open to debate. ]

Yeah, squirrely little guy, weird shades. Red hair. You know him?

Edited 2022-04-16 22:50 (UTC)

Then it's more than likely thirteen that'll get me to where you are now.

[It's dry and weary in tone but it's still a joke, something he doesn't participate in often. He waves a hand and follows it with a deep exhale.]

No, well- Yes. We worked alongside a demon named Crowley to end the apocalypse. He didn't wear shades and his hair wasn't red, but he proved helpful, and then not at all years later.

Squirrely little guy is still an apt descriptor.

Well, trust me, they'll just keep coming if that's what you want.

[ Dean's lips lift, and the relief that Cas is here is nearly tangible, thick in the air between them. ]

Huh. You'd think if it was the same guy, he'd have known me. Still, not exactly a common name, is it.

For now, that's exactly what I want.

[That, and to spend some time doing something a lot more normal with Dean than fighting an oncoming war or an apocalypse. The things he'd expect friends did, people that cared for each other enough to spend time in their company.]

He would have, but he wouldn't waste his time being coy about it. I don't know. I only know of one Crowley, well, two in this case.

Awesome. Have a seat, get comfy.

[ Dean will wave at some invisible poolboy and gesture between him and Cas, hold up two fingers, cause ya boy also needs a refill. ]

So it can't be the same dude, then. Just a freaky coincidence.

[Comfort didn't come by him easily, especially in a situation like this and in clothes like the ones he's wearing now that his usual outfit was being laundered.

He does however lean back on the chair, and mime Dean's posture. His hands find some refuge on his lower abdomen. This was all very strange, and in some ways, it was surreal enough to be a dream if he had any need for sleep.]

I think it might be best just to accept the freaky for what it is at this point. Look at where we are.

(no subject)

ruinously - 2022-04-26 12:44 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only