bakerstreet | fell asleep on.

[Sorry, Dean can't remember, is his name Cas or Human Body Pillow? He's always loved this crappy old couch and the fact that it's completely over-sized, at least, for two moderately young, irresponsible men.

Two moderately young irresponsible men and their less-of-a-puppy-than-he-was. Hope you didn't have things to do today, Cas, or that you didn't want feeling in your extremities, because Dean doesn't appear to have any intentions of moving any time soon. Never mind the movie they were watching was supposed to be a thriller, he was out like a light in the first twenty minutes, half on top of Cas, head on his chest and arms around his waist. To add to the dog pile- no pun intended, Colt was flopped like a sack of potatoes over their tangled bottom halves, adolescent legs twitching as he chased dream squirrels or dream cats, or whatever it was he did.]

[Irresponsibility is the only way to fly, as far as Cas is concerned, especially when irresponsibility comes complete with flopping on this ludicrously comfortable gigantic couch and watching a movie. The sentiment is doubled by the fact that Dean and Colt are flopped with him- it just adds to the almost sinful perfection that's going on in this apartment right now. Honestly Cas is expecting a space ship to land on their roof or the zombie apocalypse to begin, that's how nice this feels.

Sure, he can't move his legs, and he's gonna have to get up to take a leak eventually, but for right now, he's content to just lay here, head propped up against the squishy armrest and fingers tracing idle patterns against Dean's back. The thriller is less than thrilling but not totally awful, something about a couple on spring break with some weirdo chasing them in a busted pickup, but honestly Cas is only half-watching it; the steady rise and fall of Dean's back, the warmth of his skin through the worn cotton of his t-shirt and the thump of his heart against Cas's ribs are really what's using up most of his attention.]

[If aliens or zombies did descend onto the planet, they'd have to patiently wait their turn, because right now, Dean's middle name was comfort. Hell, both of them. Dean Comfort Comfortable Winchester. He could hear a heart beat thanks to the ear pressed up against Cas's ribs, fingers are stroking down his back like he's a cat, and yeah. This is... amazing.

The lights were flipped off to add to the thriller mood, but that's not really what it accomplished. All it did was make things sleepy and intimate, and Dean's totally good with that.

On the television, the lights flicker with cheap, fake lightening, and although it doesn't alert Colt, it's enough to bring Dean out of his sleep a little.

Not that he has any intention of moving. He shifts, arms tighten a second and then relax, and he angles his head up. Opens one eye, and then the other. Cas's face is shadowy in the dark, profile lit by the television, eyes bright in the darkness, and Dean has a...

A very unmanly moment where a very unmanly feeling tugs at his chest. He'd intended to say something smartass, but it died before it even started.]

['Comfy Cas' kind of has a ring to it, doesn't it? Cas thinks so. Between the flickering of the lights and the warmth and weight of Dean's body all but draped over him, Cas thinks he could rightfully get his name legally changed. It'd be perfectly suitable, and would give him an excuse to never move from this spot ever again.

He feels the shift, Dean's arms tightening around his waist briefly but doesn't register that he's awake until he feels the prickle of someone looking at him, catches a glimpse of the light reflecting against Dean's eyes.

Lifting his hand up, he tips his head to the side and smiles, a sleepy sort of thing that's small and subtle, indicating that it's not the drug-induced variety.]

You back in the realm of the living? Thought we'd lost you for a while, there.

[He replaces his hand at Dean's back, slides it up to stroke his thumb over the warm patch of skin just above his neckline. They're straight up cuddling on this couch right now, might as well go all-out with the affection while he still has the excuse.]

Want the recap, or do you just wanna be surprised?

[Comfy Cas has the best ring to it. Did they assign hippy names like they did stripper names and porn star names? Willow Rain Cinnamon Squatting Bull- oh wait, that's sort of Native American, isn't it? Either way, Dean's about two seconds away from declaring it his official title.

Much fun as Cas is while he's stoned, Dean wouldn't trade those tiny, sober smiles for anything in the world. Good to know Dean's company is just as good when Cas isn't under the influence. He shifted his hips a bit, and Colt gave a sleepy grunting whine of protest without actually waking up. He cast a sardonic look down his legs at the dog. What a terrifying brute. Lazy mutt.

He shook his head a little against Cas's chest.]

Nope. Screw the realm of the living. You guys are on your own. I'm hoping to get citizenship in dreamland. Maybe if I marry one of the natives. Pretty sure I could talk Doctor Sexy into it. We got pretty tight over space put-put golf.

[He slumped down again, glanced over at the TV and made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Recap or no recap, he didn't really care how it ended. You miss half an hour of a movie, you give up any fucks.]

I bet the dude ends up dead and the chick avenges him by stabbing that truck-driving bastard in the head with like a tire iron or something.

[If Cas ever gets around to designating himself a hippy name, Comfy Cas is looking like his first choice by far. Official title? Sign him right up, seriously.

Not to worry, Dean, it's Cas's own company he finds to be somewhat lacking when he's sober. Dean's company is always enjoyable, even when he stumbles in drunk at three a.m. or creeps on the fire escape like something straight out of a horror-movie-turned-porno. Well alright, maybe that night hadn't ended up like a porno, but a few weeks after...? Not just a porno. A good porno, suck on that, universe. Cas would flip you the bird but his hand's perfectly content right where it is, still moving slowly against Dean's skin.

Obviously Colt takes after Cas. Dean's looking at being outnumbered two to one for the foreseeable future, oh the humanity! Cas readjusts himself as Dean shifts, totally unwilling to lose the comfortable way they're pressed together... He even goes so far as to avoid brushing his cold bare foot against Dean's, he's that committed to staying here for the rest of ever. He also doesn't wanna get elbowed in the junk, so... It's a win all around.

He huffs out a soft laugh.]

Putt-putt golf over this wonder of cinematic art? Suit yourself, Dean. Colt and I will just suffer having our minds expanded without you.

[...Or maybe it's just Cas. Colt's still out cold even with the movement, adorable little bastard. Cas's lips twitch again, just a little.]

I'm betting on truck-driver guy for the win, to make it interesting.

[Cas isn't exactly all aboard the fucks given train, but it doesn't matter. This hadn't really been about the movie since they'd settled in and Colt had taken it upon himself to flop on top of them. When the dog's telling you to get lazy, you get lazy. ...Lazier, in Cas's case.]

[Dean would argue that he's pretty crappy company, especially when he comes in drunk at three in the morning. Cas, though, is awesome sober or stoned or drunk or asleep, just as long as he's there. He makes everything more... relaxed. Less of a crisis. Considering Dean's tendency to worry entirely too much, Cas brings things into balance.

And if they were a porno, they were the most awesome porno ever. We're talking Casa Erotica meets Back Door Sluts 9. Pass on the universal gesture, though. Dean's not all that catlike, but at the feeling of fingers stroking down his skin, he thinks he kind of gets their deal. It's freaking awesome.

He settles back down, lets his eyes fall closed again because it's easier to listen to the heartbeat beneath him that way. Not that he's going to say that, because... seriously, that's the gayest possible thing ever.]

Perish the thought.

[He muttered, so very sarcastically but without any real bite. Cinematic art. The couple had bad on-screen PG13-rated sex in the back of a pick-up truck. He doesn't know much about art, but that wasn't very artistic.]

Maybe. Guess they gotta leave room for a crappy made-for-tv sequel.

[He's awake now, though, as much as he'd like to drift off again, and the way Cas's shirt has ridden up since their flop exposes a little skin around his waistline. Dean strokes his thumb over it idly, without bothering to open his eyes.]

[Cas aims to relax, that's just how he rolls. He really does make a concerted effort to lower the level of anxiety in his general vicinity, as much for his own benefit as everyone else's... Although it's possible that's a side effect of being stoned most of the time. He isn't really sure which came first, anymore, and he's not about to question it when it's worked out this well so far. He's just glad to be of service, really.

Dean shifts, resettles against his chest and if it's possible Cas thinks his body might just relax even more. Any more relaxed, in fact, and he might be at risk of just melting right into the couch, taking Dean and Colt with him. He thinks he'd probably be okay with that, and judging from the way Colt hasn't moved and Dean's wrapped around him like the most wonderful blanket imaginable, he doubts anyone else would put up much of a fight either. It's probably nice in couchland.]

No I'm serious, this is award winning stuff.

[Awards like Worst Acted Death Scene and Most Difficult to Follow Plot, but awards nonetheless.]

Of course, that's the end goal of all of these. Some kind of conspiracy to expose more people to bad movies.

[He picks his head up from the arm rest briefly and cracks his neck with a sigh before settling it back right where it was. He really is completely disinclined to move at all, especially with the way Dean's thumb is now brushing over his bare skin. He lets his eyes slide shut and hums softly, feeling heavy and warm and almost impossibly content as his fingers trace over the jut of one of Dean's shoulder blades.]

[He's heard couchland is a fantastic place, full of naps and not moving. Dean's a fan of both of these things, especially if Cas melts right along with him. The poof of fur on his legs that calls itself a dog is only the icing on the cake. The couch cake.

He hums low in his throat, thumb still working a steady rhythm that he's hoping comes across as absent. It isn't though. Touching Cas like this is still new, and it's still awesome, and it still makes his chest do things that he isn't going to admit to. He's pathetic. He's willing to admit it to his own internal monologue, if not out loud.]

Oh, good. You figured out the secret. Guess we better lock the doors so Hollywood doesn't have you snuffed out. Or rubbed out. Rubbed on? Eh.

[He shrugs a shoulder, makes a noncommittal noise, and doesn't open his eyes.]

Whatever they do to roosters in crappy Alice in Chains songs.

[This is nice. This is beyond nice. This is freakishly nice, and those fingers on his shoulder blade... yeah. He's... happy. Ain't that a freakin' miracle?]

[That touch at his hip? Feels a little bit less than absent, not that Cas is about to complain. Eyes slanting shut, he lets out a soft sigh that probably ruffles Dean's hair just slightly, warm breath against the back of his neck. This is almost too nice. Did he fall asleep somewhere else or something? Eh, whatever. If he is dreaming, it's a good one and he's not about to ruin it by asking stupid questions.

His lips twitch and his body shakes lightly with a huff of laughter. "Snuff the rooster" never fails to make him chuckle. What were they thinking, honestly...? That's like 'choke the chicken", come on.]

Had it right the first time, I think. Pretty sure we're safe from that madness in here, though. We've got- [and he shifts his leg a bit, nudging Colt who remains still except for a small noise and a twitch of a paw] -an attack dog. Just vicious, look at him.

[The most vicious and protective of attack dogs, their Colt. Certainly not friendly and attention-loving and soft.

Okay. Maybe just a little.

He continues to trace his fingers over Dean's shoulders, just because he can, and because he'd wanted to from pretty much day one. Alright, maybe day three or four, but still. He can now, like this, and he means to take full advantage of it. Look, he's even gonna flatten his palm over one and slide it down his side just because. It's warm and the light's just enough to make him that perfect kind of sleepy that just seems to make touching even nicer, and there's a dog curled up at their feet that's so insanely soft and comfortable...]

[[ooc: wow sorry for the edit spam IN EVERY DAMN TAG. :| Keep missing shit when I proofread, coffee hasn't kicked in yet. ]]

Edited 2012-06-15 14:52 (UTC)

fell asleep on.

Ordinary!Cas | Supernatural AU

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I RETURN, good god... /clings to RP

May or may not be rereading amazing threads from two months ago what

Ahahaha I love doing that <3 old threads are love, guuuh