bakerstreet | ʙᴏᴛʜ ɪɴ ʜᴇʟʟ

Edited 2015-05-21 00:51 (UTC)

[ OOC would love cross canon shenanigans, or even other Marvel muses? Cast-mates are awesome as well. ]

[persecuted is most likely. m/f for shipping.]

((Care for a Balthazar? Ngl, I ship it, but I'm happy to do platonic/sibling things, too. I tag slow but I'm open to any prompt and will start if you want me to.))

((I would love a Balthazar, and I'm onboard for shipping. First one, maybe? We could AU a failed rebellion, if you're interested?))

((Oh, I like that idea, yes! See if this works for you as a starter.))

[Balthazar sealed his fate when he returned to save Cas from Raphael's wrath. He knew it at the time. Win the battle, lose the war. Lot's Salt destroys the vessel, but the angel within will always return. Still, it felt good. It was Raphael that killed Castiel when he betrayed Heaven for Dean Winchester, and while Balthazar still isn't sure he agreed with Cas' decision, he'll never forget the heartbreak when he heard he was dead.

Somehow, death doesn't seem to stick with Cas, and Balthazar is afraid to guess why that might be, but he saved him just that one time, and he's still a bit proud of it.

Mind you, they're both paying for it dearly now.

Heaven is brutal enough to disobedient angels on its own. Now, thanks to Crowley's excessive cleverness, Hell is loosely allied, at least until one turns on the other. Balthazar gives it a year at best, but in the meantime, the remnants of Castiel's little rebellion are ideal scapegoats for both sides.

A thin magical bond, like a chain of hammered lightning, binds Castiel's Grace and Balthazar's Grace together, within reach but not quite touching. It's a deliberate punishment; they're never alone, but they also have to watch the other in pain when more torment is dealt out. Balthazar doesn't necessarily care about torture on his own behalf any more, but he'll never get used to watching Castiel suffer.

At the moment, it's dark in the cells. Dark means the demons are in charge of the prison for the moment, and while they're more creative in the types of pain they can deliver, they're actually less vicious. Which means it's safe to talk.]

Cassi...? Are you warm enough? [Balthazar's voice is a near whisper.] I think I can reach you with my wings if you want.

[Castiel suffered through his own heartbreak after learning of Balthzar's supposed death. Then to discover that it was a ruse... Well. Joy, betrayal, anger, and perhaps just a touch of pride that another angel had decided to seize control of their own life - even if he didn't agree with how Balthazar decided to spend his newfound freedom - it was a swirl of emotions he wasn't sure he could keep up with.

Then Balthazar made that huge leap, and came swooping back in at the last possible second to save him from being smote by Raphael a second time. That act of open rebellion proved to Castiel they could succeed. That he wasn't the only one willing to stand up to an archangel when it really counted.

Except they failed, spectacularly. Raphael quashed the rebellion like an older boy at a beach, kicking over his little brother's carefully constructed sand castle, and Castiel was left thinking Balthazar was probably better off when he was only watching out for himself.

There's still a lot of rebellion left in Castiel. Demons or angels, every time they come around, looking to torment their prisoners, he does what he can to draw their focus to him instead. Balthazar's only here because of his loyalty, after all, so the least Castiel can do is try to ensure his suffering is minimal. When it's quiet, when they can talk, he keeps up the brave front - assures Balthazar he's fine, even when he's not, and that those that remain free, even though they're no doubt being tracked down by angels and demons alike, are working on a way to get them out. They just have to hold on a little while longer. Sometimes he believes it himself.

It's not so much the cold that bothers him when the cells are dark, but the damp that seeps into his bones, bringing with it that feeling that he'll never be warm again.]

I'm all right. [He tries to surpress the shiver that runs through him, and slides as close to Balthazar as he can get.] Are you?

[Balthazar is as loyal as an angel can possibly be. It took a lot for Heaven to alienate him. It took Anna's death, and Gabriel's, and Castiel's, to be precise. They were all dear to him, but he never pretended Castiel wasn't his favorite sibling. That in and of itself made him an oddball among the Host, really; angels aren't supposed to have favorites.

Still, it made it easy for him to decide to join Castiel's side.

Even now, he can't regret the decision. This is wrong, this alliance between Paradise and Perdition, and no good will come of it, and when it falls apart, he'll be around to laugh and say he saw it coming. But more importantly, he'll be with Cas.

He wishes his brother wouldn't take so much physical punishment on his behalf, but it's like Cas to do that. And it's as much an act of love to do so as it is when Balthazar wraps his wings around them to create some warmth in the space between them.

Balthazar's true form is a double-ring of fire and eyes. He's never cold.]

I'm fine. Bit restless. A bit sore. [He dares to put an arm around Castiel's waist, as if to support him.] How long do you think we've been in here? Earth-time, I mean. A few months? You'd think Raphael would have pulled the Apocalypse together by now.

[It's meant to be a positive observation, and he gives Cas a little, wan smile.] Something must not be working quite right, don't you think?

[Unlike Balthazar, Castiel doesn't really have favourites. His favourites essentially boil down to Not Michael, Not Lucifer, and Definitely Not Raphael. Not that he's not odd in his own way - with his ideas of free will and rebellion. It seems like he's always been guided more by what he believes right and less by what he's ordered to do.

He can't deny they're not close, though. They've known each other too long and fought side by side too many times. Out of all the angels he trusts, he trusts Balthazar most of all. He will still deny favouritism, though, in the same spirit he'll deny a lot of things others see in him.

He relaxes somewhat as Balthazar's wings envelop them, providing both warmth and comfort, and he even responds to the arm around his waist by lifting his arm to set around Balthazar's shoulders. He never used to get too warm or too cold, so he suspects it's just the affect of this place. Once they're out, everything will be fine again. They'll have to take cover, lay low for awhile, sure, but Castiel's already making plans to unite whoever remains still loyal to him.]

It's hard to keep track, but I suspect a few months, yes. Rachel knew to go find Sam and Dean if something like this happened - they are probably interfering with Raphael's plans while trying to figure out how to free us.

[He manages a smile of his own that's meant to be reassuring.]

I'm sure it will be any time now.

[Balthazar clicks his tongue and sighs, shaking his head. This, too, is like Castiel, this insistence on being the strong one, the reassuring one. That, and his devotion to duty, are certainly two of the biggest reasons he became the garrison captain.

Balthazar's strengths are different, but they include an attention to very fine details. Details like the fact that Cas' wings are beginning to molt, that his vessel is shivering and looks more delicate than it should.]

You don't have to do that, you know. You don't have to protect me. I don't have any regrets, even if we die here. All right? Let me help you.

[He leans to meet Castiel's eyes smiling gently.] Just promise me if we do get out of this you'll buy me a drink.

[Those small details that prove Castiel's strength has been fading are just more items in the list of things he will deny if someone pointed them out to him. It hasn't escaped his notice, of course, but he's sure he's done a much better job of keeping it hidden than he really has.

He'll keep at it, though, being strong, reassuring them both as much as he can. Of course he has to protect Balthazar. They wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him. Besides, he's not really sure he knows how to do anything else. But he'll also let his head rest against Balthazar's shoulder, even as he peers up at him resolutely.

The truth is, he's not entirely sure they should be counting on a rescue, though. He's not even sure Rachel's still alive, but surely by now Sam and Dean have noticed that he hasn't been answering them. Breaking out has occurred to him, but he has no firm ideas on how that's going to happen. Perhaps if this twisted alliance between angels and demons breaks down, an opportunity will present itself. He's been trying to push at it, though, as much as he dares, without trying to be too obvious.]

We are not going to die here. And when we do get out of here, I'll buy you an entire liquor store if that's what you want.

Ohh. Will you really, love? Will you share it with me? [He can't help but grin at that promise. Comments about sticks and orifices notwithstanding, he knows Castiel isn't entirely opposed to a good time. It's just normally his last priority, whereas it's usually one of Balthazar's top two or three.]

You missed the point, though. Let me hold you up, for once in your life. You always take on more than you should have to. Just because most of the time you manage to handle it doesn't make it right. [He leans back, tugging Cas with him so that they're both half-reclining against the wall, and runs his fingers through his hair.

Angels don't sleep, and physical adjustments and comfort won't change that, but perhaps if Castiel will relax and rest some, it will help renew his strength.] However, if we're making plans for when we bust out of the clink, as it were, let's set our sights high. Monte Carlo, perhaps? Paris? Bangkok?

Or, at least, I will buy us all the alcohol in the liquor store. [Clarification is important. What would they do with the rest of the store after drinking the stock, after all? He gives a smile.] And yes, I suppose I could share.

[He allows himself to be pulled back and shifts a bit, adjusting the arm around Balthazar's shoulders. He settles back in, and lets his eyes drift closed as he feels the fingers in his hair, allowing himself to relax a bit more.] You're holding me up now.

[His thoughts have already gone back to trying to figure out an escape plan and the hows and wheres of gathering whatever remains of his supporters. Then there's the problem of keeping them all safe until he can come up with a better way to stand against their older brother. Still, a bit of rest and recovery time is going to be necessary for them both, so he does genuinely consider the question of where to go.]

Aldabra Atoll. Have you ever been there?

[Well, they could go into business. Two angels running a liquor store, what could possibly go wrong?

Balthazar isn't sure his plan to ease Castiel's mind is working, but he doesn't seem to object yet, either, so he'll carry on. His fingers comb through dark hair, curl to rub little circles at the nape of his neck, then glide back up his scalp. Stroking hair isn't quite like preening wing feathers, but the principle is the same.

He's pleasantly surprised by the answer, especially since it's not Castiel's style to speculate on something he doesn't actually intend to go through with, if the opportunity arises. Balthazar chuckles softly, then hums and shakes his head.] Never, but I'm all for a tropical island. What is it there you want to see?

[Castiel sighs comfortably, allowing Balthazar to continue. Even under the circumstances, it's hard not to relax, even if his mind remains busy.]

Honestly, there's not really anything to see there. [He glances up with a slight smile.] Except for, once we get out of here, large quantities of alcohol and two very drunk angels.

The catch is, we have to get out of here first. I'm starting to run out of patience with sitting around, waiting for someone to break us out.

[Balthazar laughs, clapping his free hand over his mouth to stifle it. These days, nothing much pleases him more than when Castiel is willing to go along with his whims. For his favorite brother to egg him on in said whims is even better. For just a moment, he almost forgets they're in prison.]

It sounds perfect. I'm in one-hundred percent. [Recovering, he manages to keep his voice down, but plants a quiet, warm kiss on Cas' temple.

Unfortunately, business can't be put off forever, and they're still in a great deal of danger. He starts to speak, then falls silent as the sound of motion in the hall outside their cell heralds a handful of demon guards passing. Balthazar is still as stone and dead quiet as they draw close, but this time they pass by without incident. Occupied with something or someone else, perhaps.

He exhales in relief and resumes stroking Castiel's hair, whispering:]

I had a thought, there. It may not be a good thought. But you know how we've ruffled Atropos' feathers? [Ah, the Titanic incident. Balthazar still isn't sure how to feel about that whole affair. It was both entertaining and horrifying.] Remember how she felt compelled to point out she has two big sisters?

They might have wanted to Apocalypse to go through as originally planned, but I'd be willing to bet they aren't liking the marriage of Heaven and Hell.

[The laughter provokes a genuine smile from Castiel; It's such a refreshing sound in a place like this.]

Good. It's settled then. As soon as we're free.

[The smile vanishes as soon as he hears the guards outside. Bracing his hand on Balthazar's leg, he pushes himself forward, sitting straight, tense and alert. It takes a few moments after the footsteps recede for him to settle back in, head back on Balthazar's shoulder, arm set lazily around his waist.

He starts to relax again as Balthazar resumes stroking his hair and hums thoughtfully, listening to his plan.]

No... They probably don't approve... But still, this sounds like it could backfire spectacularly.

[He watches Cas worriedly as he tenses. The last thing they need now is more torture, and he knows from experience no matter what he says, Castiel will put himself forward first. It's touching, more than he has words for, but there's a limit to how much he can stand to watch, too.

As Cas resettles, Balthazar places a hand on his back, between his wings, and rubs in a slow spiral, trying to rebuild the quieter mood.] As soon as we're free, darling. It's a date.

[In the dark, his lips quirk into a smirk.] Hasn't everything we've done up till now had that potential? We need more allies than we've got. The Winchesters are stubborn little bastards; I'll give you that. But they tend to win Pyrrhic victories, when they win. I want to win and have us both survive.

We can't win by playing fair. It's time to make deals and play tricks. [If only Balthazar was anywhere close to Gabriel's equal in that department. He's not, and he knows he's not, but he at least has an advantage over Castiel in that he's comfortable with being dishonest.]

...You'd look very pretty riding off into the sunset triumphant.

[Castiel ruffles his wings, and a couple dark feathers shake loose and float to the floor. He lets his eyes drift shut again as the tension starts to drain away.]

Good. There's one plan taken care of then.

Well, to be fair, death has yet to stop Sam or Dean from surviving. [Or him, for that matter. But Balthazar is right - there's no chance at taking Raphael in a fair fight. Really, there never was. At this point, Castiel will consider it a win if they both escape with their lives. Although, taking down an arrogant older brother still has plenty of appeal. Out of the two of them, though, there's no denying that Balthazar has the better aptitude for wheedling deals and playing tricks, so he'll bow to his brother's wisdom.]

Well... I don't suppose we can make things much worse, can we? What do you have in mind?

[He opens his eyes briefly, smiling.] I think it would look better if we both rode off triumphant into the sunset, but one thing at a time.

True, but a a large part of that is due to your interference. And we're not certain, are we, who's intervening on your behalf? I'd rather not chance it further in your case, or at all in mine. I don't think I'm important enough to resurrect.

[Unless he could be resurrected for the sake of his skill in back massage. Cas seems to be responding remarkably well to it so far. Pushing his luck, Balthazar presses the pad of his thumb against the sweet spot where wings would join the body, if they were solid. He's pretending not to notice the dropped feathers.]

I'm afraid I don't have anything concrete in mind as far as getting their attention. I have several good arguments why they should be interested in our cause. But I think someone dying may be the only way to get Atropos' attention...

Oh, I'm sure I could make several good arguments as to why you're important enough to resurrect.

[Although most of those reasons are personal, and one or two may or may not be related to Balthazar's skill as a masseur. There's a quiet appreciative groan from Cas as his thumb finds just the right spot.]

You're right, though - it's better not to risk it. Eventually whoever's responsible is going to stop bringing me back.

[He falls silent, considering their options. None of them seem very attractive.]

Well... Given how gentle the guards are, there's probably already enough death around us.

[That little noise sends a shiver down Balthazar's spine. Under other circumstances, it would definitely be enough cause for him to push his luck, maybe even try to steal a kiss...but this isn't the ideal time or place, even he can recognize that.

He won't forget that spot, though.

He gives a little sigh and nuzzles Castiel's hair, then refocuses on the matter at hand, still kneading between his wings.] Well, you know how I like to collect spells. I thought some insurance against Fate sneaking up on me might be appropriate after the Titanic incident.

I can't summon any of the Moirai, but I can make the golden threads light up around a living human. If any of our demon friends is in a meatsuit that's still alive, they'll light up like a Christmas tree, and we can yank on the tinsel until someone takes notice.

[Castiel rounds his shoulders, stretching out stiff muscles that are already starting to loosen up under Balthazar's fingers. He's still contemplating the risks they're taking, but without any other alternatives, it still seems better than waiting.]

I'm sure this isn't what you intended to use such a spell for.

[Balthazar might be a little... unconventional in his methods at times, but it's hard not to give him credit for his resourcefulness and forethought. It's certainly going to go a long way in saving their lives, no doubt.]

What do you need for the spell?

No...but I like to hoard things in case they come in handy later. Wouldn't be the first time that benefited you. [The grin is audible in his voice. He's still pleased with himself over having Lot's Salt available at the right time and place.] Just call me your personal magpie, hm?

[Coming up to the end of what he can do to ease Castiel, as far as massage, he leans in and kisses the top of his head, then straightens, sobering.] Blood. We'll need blood, from one of our vessels. I'll just borrow one of these feathers you've dropped. And we'll need a demon, of course. That may be the tricky part.

We could scream for attention, but we might get more of them running in here than we can handle. Ideas?

No, it's certainly not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last either. Not at this rate, anyway. Just don't start keeping count, all right?

[He smiles as Balthazar kisses the top of his head, but takes the cue and also straightens up. Blood, feathers... Sounds easy enough. Trying to draw in one single demon might be more complicated though.]

Tell them... Hmm. [He tilts his head for a moment, thinking.] Tell them I've decided to tell one of them where some of the rest of the angels who were loyal to me may still be hiding. But I'll only speak to one of them. That should get their attention.

I can't keep count? Does that mean I can't have a scrapbook, either? [Smiling, Balthazar disentangles himself and rises. His knees and hips pop quietly as his body stretches and unkinks, but if it hurts, he makes no sign.]

Tell the demons that Castiel wants to give them information? That could work. Try...try acting more worn down than you are. It will make it more believable.

[He advances toward the cell door; the chain linking their Graces won't let him go too far, but he can manage a few paces. Leaning against the slit of a window they have, he listens a moment, then hisses quietly.]

Ssst! Demon! We want to talk. Who's in charge?

[There's a pause as whatever demon he's addressed processes this, then a response:] What makes you think we want to talk to you? You're as good as dead anyway.

Mmm. But there's still fighting going on out there, because we haven't been executed yet. Now, tell me you're convinced Raphael will keep his bargain with Hell. [There's a notably uncertain silence, and after a moment he goes on.] Yes, that's what I thought. Bring us a crossroads demon; Castiel is ready to make a deal.

No, no scrapbooks either. [He's a bit more attentitve at the cracking of Balthazar's joints, but not seeing any signs of pain, lets it go as just another sign that they both need to get out of there.]

A little more worn down. All right.

[He stays seated on the floor, and pulls one knee up to rest his arm on it, slouching forward. He lets his shoulders sag and his head drop so he can just see Balthazar out of his peripheral vision. He listens quietly to the conversation before lifting his head to look at the small window.]

Hurry up, before I change my mind.

[There's a nerve-wracking pause where it looks like the demon just might call their bluff. Balthazar, to his credit, stands his ground focusing a narrow stare through the window-slit, and after the space of several breaths, the demon answers:]

Fine. But if you're playing games, I will personally tear off your wings and make you eat them.

[Balthazar's eyebrows twitch, but all he says is:] No worries. Just get someone in here.

--Oh, but make sure they come alone. Everyone else stays down the hall out of earshot. We don't want someone playing games with us and ruining the deal. Understood?

[There's no answer, but the distinctive sound of a demon smoking out for travel tells them their request has been heard. Balthazar lets out a soft sigh and turns back to Castiel.] Promise me no heroics if this doesn't work, all right?

[He stays still, waiting quietly for the demon to make his decision. For a moment, it doesn't look like he's going to buy it, and Castiel starts trying to figure out an alternative way to get them alone with one of their captors.

He lets it go, though, as soon as the demon answers and it's clear he's at least mostly fallen for their ruse. He tenses slightly as the threat is issued, but lets it slide. It won't matter, after all, as long as they're successful.

Castiel gets up as soon as the demon smokes up, scooping up the dropped feathers on the floor, and keeps his voice down.]

If this doesn't work, they will likely be angry enough with the attempt that I won't be able to protect you. [That's not actually a promise he won't try, just an acknowledgement that the attempt might not make any difference.]

We better make sure the spell is ready. We'll have to act quickly before the crossroads demon realizes that there's something more happening and raises the alarm.

That's not a promise at all. [Balthazar gives him a look, saying as clearly as words that he knows what Castiel's trying to pull and is not fooled. Of course, he also knows they have very limited time, and there's a lot to be said for the idea of setting up the spell in full before their quarry arrives. He drops to his knees next to Cas, and helps scoop feathers together.]

I've got more blood to spare; you've been shedding too much of yours.

[Angel quills are sharp; he takes a moment to seek out a vein on his vessel's arm and jabs into it sharply. The bleed is sluggish, but sufficient for their purposes, and he's quick to start sketching sigils on the cleanest part of the floor.] Will you keep watch, love? This won't take long.

It won't matter whether I promise or not as long as we're successful. [Castiel has no intention of making any promises he's likely to break, and he knows he would have a very hard time not protecting Balthazar.

He doesn't argue when Balthazar decides to use his own blood for the spell. It feels too petty to do so when they're pressed for time. He gets back to his feet, watching the progress on the sigils before moving to the door, keeping an eye out for any sign of the demons returning while still occasionally glancing back in Balthazar's direction.]

Yes, I'll keep watch. How is this spell going to work?

Edited 2015-06-03 02:40 (UTC)

You're getting cleverer, Cassi. I approve. [Cas gets a warm smile for his mix of prevarication and stubbornness. It's far more endearing than it has any right to be. But then, Balthazar finds a good two-thirds of what Castiel does endearing, and the remaining third is forgivable.]

We're going to need to pounce and cover the demon's mouth well so they don't escape or scream. They don't really have to be in the circle, but withing a few feet of the boundaries will help.

I think it will be best if you pin them down and let me do the incantation. If I recall right, it creates a mist that highlights the thread of life for an individual person. When the threads appear--if we're fortunate enough to catch a demon in a living meatsuit--I'll grab a hold of them.

I'm hoping that much interference will be enough to bring at least one of the Moirai down to tell us off. Then, we talk fast and hope for the best.

Plan B, though, if our crossroads demon has a dead vessel...I suppose we're left with either hostage negotiations or bribing it. Do you have any bribes available?

[This is one of the ways Castiel proves that, despite his belief to the contrary, he does indeed show favouritism to Balthazar. There is no other being on Earth or in Heaven he would ever allow to call him Cassi without strong protest. He returns the smile with one of his own.] Well, I have had a rather good example to learn from.

[The smile fades as he listens to the plan, nodding. There's far too many ifs. If the demon's vessel is alive. If the Moirai show up. If they even agree to help. Then if they don't, it's if someone decides that a crossroads demon's life is more valuable than keeping them imprisoned, or if they can find something valuable enough to trade. Still, though, desperate times.]

Well, neither one of us have a soul to sell. I suppose we could offer it information - where it can hide once Raphael turns on them. It may not be open to negotiation once we've grabbed it, though.

[Balthazar is, somewhere in the back of his mind, aware that he's special in that way. The number of people who get away with teasing Cas the way he does is small, too, come to think of it, if not exclusive to Balthazar.]

That may be the only time in the history of the universe anyone has called me a good example. [He smirks, finishing off the sigils rapidly.]

It's a shame Plan B can't be one of our vessels. That would make the whole thing simpler, but I think the soul of mine has flown since Raphael brought us in to face the music. Rather liked him.

All we have is information. Favors. Money. I have some accounts on the planet, but I doubt a demon would be interested.

I'm not sure I would get too accustomed to being called a good example if I were in your position. [Teasing Balthazar is mostly an attempt to lighten the mood a little. Truthfully, Castiel doesn't feel much like a very good example lately either. His failure to rouse more of their brothers and sisters to their side, his attempts to gain more power to stand against Raphael, and of course, their capture... None of it is terribly encouraging, although it isn't likely to stop him either.

Balthazar's timing is impeccable, as always, and the crossroads demon smokes right into their cell shortly after he finishes the sigils, and says, smirking:] I hear you boys are ready to start singing.

[Castiel's reaction is immediate. He slams bodily into the demon, heaving it face first into the wall closest to the sigils. He presses his forearm into the the back of the demon's neck to pin it while his free hand clamps down over its mouth, while it's taken off guard.

The demon flails briefly, then, recovering, braces its hands on the wall to try to push off and knock Castiel back. He loses a bit of ground, but manages to maintain his grip.]

Yes, well, we're both absolutely terrible angels, so that's all right. [Balthazar takes well to teasing from Cas, or at least he tries to. It only seems fair, since he picks on him mercilessly.

He'd mention as much, except suddenly the energy in the cell shifts, a herald to the demon's arrival. He straightens, ready to help Castiel--except assistance doesn't seem to be needed. He's not that surprised; Cas is a soldier, a garrison captain. He can handle a demon.

Rather than push his luck goading the red-eyed visitor, Balthazar starts in on the enchantment right away, almost whispering it in order to keep from giving away their activities. The power resonates in the red circle, and if Cas is able to turn his focus from the demon for even a moment, he'll see his brother light up in a triumphant smile.

They're in luck. The threads are swimming into view.]

[Castiel gives a bit more ground to the demon as it struggles, re-adjusting the forearm against its neck, and his stance as he shoves it violently back against the wall. With everything they've been through - the torture, watching Balthazar suffer when he's been unable to redirect the guards' attention to himself - he has plenty of pent up anger, and the crossroads demon is a very convenient target.

He glances briefly in Balthazar's direction, encouraged by the triumphant smile. Then the threads start to appear, and he smiles himself. One of the threads is within reach, so he grabs at it, grinding his elbow into the back of the demon's neck, tangling it around his fingers and giving it a pull.

The reaction is immediate. The demon freezes as does any activity outside in the hall, and Atropos appears, glancing back and forth between Castiel and Balthazar furiously. Her voice is shrill as she shouts at them:] Let go of that right now, Castiel! What do you two idiots think you're doing?!

Edited (Just excuse me while I fix my HTML.) 2015-06-07 00:21 (UTC)

[Not only are they in luck, Atropos is being (perhaps unintentionally) very helpful by freezing time around them. Balthazar's smile widens, and he moves to clasp his hand around the thread as well.

He greets her in ancient Greek, but the gesture of respect is probably spoiled by the grin on his face. He looks like a cat that ate a canary. Cas may recognize the expression as similar to the look of boyish amusement after he rendered Raphael's vessel to salt.] Hail, Atropos!

Darling, you look lovely as always. We're going to need some assistance, and since you're here anyway, we were hoping you'd be amenable.

[The Fate's eyes narrow; it looks like she's trying to decide which of the two angels she dislikes more.] After you tried to kill me.

[Balthazar shrugs, affecting an apologetic look.] That was never personal. And we did go to a lot of trouble putting the Titanic back where it was meant to be, all for you.

[Honestly, he still can't figure out how the Winchesters believed he actually time-traveled to prevent a film and a song from being made. Especially after seeing how much effort it takes to do so, even for an angel. Balthazar may be a loose canon, and he can't say he doesn't love the idea, but that's an awful lot of effort to go through. It's particularly a lot of effort to have gone through twice.]

[Castiel releases his hold on the demon once it's frozen in time, but keeps his fingers tangled in the thread surrounding it.

Atropos rolls her eyes in Balthazar's direction, and wastes no time correcting him.] No. You fixed the mess you made with the Titanic because you knew the Winchesters' lives would be forfeit if you didn't.

[Castiel decides they're probably better off getting straight to the point. He tried polite flattery with Atropos the last time they met and she certainly didn't seem to appreciate the effort.] I suspect this time we have some common ground. I can't imagine you're any happier with Raphael's alliance with Hell than we are. This certainly isn't what I intended to happen after helping the Winchesters stop the Apocalypse.

No, no, that's why he fixed the mess with the Titanic. I don't even like the Winchesters. [This is mostly true.

But Castiel has a point. The quicker they make their case, the better. Enough small talk.] You see, we don't see any reason Fate and Free Will can't coexist in one way or another, but we see a lot of reasons Heaven and Hell shouldn't be in bed together. Speaking metaphorically, you understand. I don't think there's any of that going on literally.

[If there is, he doesn't want to know about it.

Atropos scowls at them both, but speaks slowly, thinking this over:] What's your proposal?

[Balthazar gestures with the hand not holding the golden thread.] All we ask is that you let us out, and give us a chance to make good. We'll break up this alliance Crowley has going with our dear elder brother, and then we can all argue about what comes next. Non-violently.

[Atropos crosses her arms.] Well, I can't deny that this alliance is in defiance of the natural order of the universe. I certainly don't approve of it.

[Castiel nods in agreement. It's a total contradiction to what he had said before about Atropos' services no longer being needed, but they need her now, and he's hoping that giving her her purpose back will be enough to convince her to help them.] Balthazar is right. Help us with this, and we will make things right again. I didn't appreciate before how important your work is to you. I owe you an apology for that. We can certainly find a way to work together, going forward, if that's what you want.

[A faint smile flickers over the Fate's face; it doesn't look like it's born entirely of positive emotion. Balthazar would venture to say, in fact, that it's a slightly mean smile. But it does look like acquiescence.] I think you're kissing up because you're cornered. But you know what? If you stick to your agreements, I'll take it.

[Balthazar lets go of his grip on the golden thread slowly, nodding.] Honestly, you're right on both counts. We're in trouble, but we'll keep to our word. Such as it is. We're not promising to let the Apocalypse go through, but we can play fairer going forward.

[Atropos nods, and offers Balthazar a hand, then Castiel.] Fine. Let's get this over with. You both. Owe. Me.

[Maybe it's the malice in the Fate's smile, or something in the way she says they both owe her, but Castiel hesitates just briefly beforel releasing the golden thread. He glances back at the demon, remembering they really don't have much in the way of other options and nods, taking Atropos' hand.] I don't go back on my word.

[Not usually anyway.

Atropos returns the nod, satisified, and asks:] Well, where do you want to go, then?

[Castiel's answer is immediate. He has a promise to keep after all.] Aldabra Atoll.

[Balthazar does occasionally go back on his word, but in this case he intends to keep it, if for no other reason than that Cas is at stake, too. He reaches his free hand to grip his brother's sleeve for stability, and then laughs.]

Oh, Cas! Yes. I concur.

[Atropos is tempted to ask what they're going on about, but thinks better of it. The sooner she drops them off, the better. So, with a roll of her eyes, she unfreezes the scene around them and abruptly yanks them through space.

It's not like angel-flight. It's more like being dragged at high speed through a spider's web. They can see the golden threads flick around them, lashing across bare wings, tickling vessels' skin. It's a strange, unpleasant sensation, but it's brief.

She deposits them unceremoniously on a sandy beach. It's dawn, and the sky is just lightening from grey-violet to vivid pink around the edges.]

There. [Releasing them both, she dusts off her hands.] You're on your own from here, but I'll be watching you.

[There's no doubt which method of travel Castiel prefers, and he has to resist the urge to wipe away the lingering sensations of the golden threads against his skin once they're back on the ground. Still, it's fast, and they're free, and that's the important part.

He gives Atropos a nod as they're released.] Thank you.

[Atropos eyes them both for a moment before speaking:] Don't forget our agreement.

[As soon as she's gone, Castiel starts drawing sigils in the sand to ward off any angels or demons who may come looking for them; high enough to be safe from the waves washing up on the beach. Once they're protected, he'll leave Balthazar to go get them their alcohol. He glances in his brother's direction, looking as serious as ever.] She's watching us. I hope she enjoys watching us both get very, very drunk.

[Balthazar, too, mutters a thanks, but it's distracted because he's looking around their landing zone now. Even in the low light, angel eyes can see all the details around them, and it's quite beautiful. Few places in the world have such clear water any more.

He glances briefly after Atropos, then shakes himself slightly and refocuses on Castiel. He looks a bit better, he thinks. Less strained and pale, if no less serious. Still, they both need time to recover.

And then Castiel makes his deadpan observation, and it all strikes Balthazar as such tremendous, silly relief that he bursts out laughing. Staggering to his feet, he reaches for Cas and pulls him into an unsteady hug.] Well, either way, we'll enjoy watching us get drunk.

[Castiel's first reaction is to strain against the embrace to check his handiwork with the wards. Their entire escape will be for nothing if they're discovered, after all. It's only for a brief moment, though, then he's wrapping his arms around Balthazar in return, letting his chin rest on his shoulder.] We'll be all right now.

[He takes his first real look at their surroundings; the clear water, the almost white sand, the sun peeking through the clouds just at the horizon, casting pale pink light through the sky. It seems like the perfect place for recuperation from their ordeal.]

Once the sun is up, I will go find a liquor store.

Edited 2015-06-12 11:09 (UTC)

[It's a strangely characteristic interaction between them, with Balthazar caught up in the moment and clinging to his brother, and Castiel struggling to handle the task at hand before allowing himself to respond. Balthazar laughs again, more gently, and relaxes into the embrace when Cas does. His wings, ragged though they are, unfold and refold, wrapped half around them.]

Your choice of venue is brilliant, you know. It's beautiful.

Are you sure you want to go off alone? I'm tired, but I'm sure I'm no worse for wear than you are. [And he's slightly afraid of what happens if Castiel leaves and doesn't come back. How will he find him again? What if he gets caught?]

[Castiel's wings stretch out and back and he gives them a shake, trying to dislodge a couple more loose feathers. He wraps them the rest of way around them both, letting his wings rest against Balthazar's.]

It's quiet, and peaceful, and we should remain undisturbed here. All things I think we both could benefit from for now.

[He adjusts his arms around Balthazar so he can smooth one of his brother's errant feathers back into place. He isn't sure whether he would rather Balthazar stay put, where the wards drawn in the sand can protect him or come along to the liquor store so neither one of them is out of sight.]

If you want to come with me, I won't argue.

[Oh. The touch of wings to wings is an intimacy he hasn't shared with any angel in quite a while, and most definitely one he prefers to share with Castiel over any other sibling. Balthazar shivers and tilts his head against Castiel's as his feathers are smoothed, uttering a quiet little 'oof' of contentment.]

That feels nice. Let's do more of this, too, please? [He clings for another moment, then backs off just a little.] But liquor first. We made a plan, we should follow through.

I'd like to come along. I don't...want you to go too far without me yet.

[It's a tender moment between them that Castiel isn't sure he wants to end. But they did have a plan, and he made a promise that he has ever intention of following through on.]

Yes, I agree. On both points, actually. [He takes an extra moment to straighten out a couple more feathers before backing off as well.]

It's probably best if we stay together. I'm sure word of our escape has already reached Raphael. [He can't help looking satisfied, thinking about how angry their older brother likely is at his demon guards.]

[Balthazar would definitely prefer it didn't end, but since it sounds like they're on vacation for the foreseeable future, he thinks he can bear a brief pause. Hopefully Cas is prepared to have his wings preened while they're both sloshed, because it's happening.]

Oh, Cassi. You look like you've just pulled off the prank of a lifetime. Smug is charming on you.

[He places a hand on his arm and stretches his own wings.] Chicago? I know a large store there, and I think it will have just closed for the night, so we can do our shopping in peace.

[A good preening is probably in order for both of them, given the state of their wings, so Castiel will gladly reciprocate.]

It was your plan that allowed us to escape, so I have to give you most of the credit. I was just thinking about how furious Raphael must be with his new allies. Depending on what he believes, we may not have to do very much to ensure he and Crowley don't remain friendly for long.

Chicago? [He nods in agreement.] All right, if you already know a store you'd like to visit.

Does that mean I get to look smug, too? [He grins, obviously delighted. This kind of praise from Cas isn't an everyday occurrence.]

I hope you're right. Crowley might find some way to weasel out of the blame, I suppose, but if our escape doesn't split up the unholy alliance, we can always finish the job.

[Balthazar tilts his head into the wind for a moment, judging the distance to his goal, then takes flight, leaving his hand on Castiel's arm to keep them together. It's brief, as angel flight typically is, and they land in the store. It's very large, with enough liquor to choke an angel (theoretically), and Balthazar makes a beeline for the brandy.] Do you have any preferences as to what you drink, Cassi? I mean, enough of anything alcoholic will get you drunk, but I like to savor a bit on the way.

Given how few escapes there have been from Heaven's prison, I believe we have every reason to be smug. [And of course by few, Castiel means to the best of his knowledge, they're the first to ever pull it off.] If it doesn't split them up, it should at least drive in a significant wedge. We can figure out how to use that to our advantage later.

[He lets Balthazar guide them to the liquor store, looking around once they land. He's on alert for any sign of either angels or demons, and starts browsing the shelves with mild interest as Balthazar heads for the brandy.] It doesn't particularly matter to me. Get whatever you like.

[He picks up a skull shaped bottle, peering at it curiously.] People honestly find this sort of thing attractive?

[Balthazar continues to grin, thrilled. Maybe it's the euphoria of newly-obtained freedom, or maybe it's the fact that he's on an outing with Castiel for no reason other than enjoyment. He's...less alert for trouble, caught up in the moment.

When Cas is around, he can afford to be less than businesslike.]

Brandy, champagne, scotch, bourbon, port. In that order. Bourbon seems to hit the hardest when I'm actually looking for a buzz. Mm...Remy Martin VSOP. That will do for a start. If you like sweets, you should try apple brandy.

[He nabs a basket and sets a couple bottles in the bottom, then comes back over to peer at the bottle that's caught Castiel's interest.] Humans are strangely narcissistic when it comes to sustaining their metabolic functions. I'm sure they find a skull bottle fascinating.

You know, when I first Fell, I hid out in a motel near a theme park for a month or so. One of the snack bars had an ice cream sundae that was designed to look like a clown's head. Candies for eyes, cherry nose, upside-down cone for a hat. I thought it was a bit horrifying; a bit like implied cannibalism.

All right. Let's get some apple brandy as well, then.

[Castiel watches Balthazar as he shops, clearly pleased by the grinning and how at ease his brother seems already. He is still on alert, though, prepared to whisk them both back off to the atoll at the slightest sign that someone may be coming. Even a mouse scampering off in search of food earns itself a glare.

He sets the bottle back on the shelf, eyebrows knitting together as he listens to Balthazar's description of the clown sundae.] That sounds very disturbing. Why would anyone want to eat a clown? Perhaps this is why some people develop a fear of them.

[Balthazar couldn't ask for a more vigilant protector, and he knows it. There's not much difference in age between him and Castiel, not for angels, but times like this he feels very much like the coddled younger sibling. Secretly, he loves that.

But he has a role, too, and it's to get Cas to loosen up and enjoy himself. Within safe parameters. Balthazar gathers bottles of the liquor he knows he likes best, and the liquor he thinks Cas will enjoy most, stacking them in his basket. Champagne is next, preferably Dom Perignon, but he won't be picky about the year.

Smiling, he nods at Castiel as he moves down the aisle.]

That's more or less what I thought. But I kept passing it every day and watching parents buy them for their children, and I thought 'what the hell?'. So I got one, and I ate it. It actually tasted quite nice. Sweet.

Mind you, I still don't understand the point, but I'd eat it again.

[They compliment each other well this way, Balthazar and Castiel. He minds a lot less than he lets on sometimes, Balthazar's attempts to get him to lighten up. Usually he lets it show by giving in.

He follows Balthazar down the aisle to the champagne, looking over their options. It's probably a good thing he didn't come alone. He would have returned with a hodgepodge of anything he could have laid his hands on quickly without really considering brands or years.]

I can honestly say I have never felt the compulsion to eat an ice cream clown. I would have thought children, particularly, would be bothered by eating something with eyes - even candy ones.

You'd think that, wouldn't you? But as it turns out, children are terrifying little monsters who think dismemberment is hilarious because they have no concept of death yet.

[How he obtained this information on human children, Balthazar is not volunteering. Maybe he tried to babysit or something.

He pulls a bottle off the shelf, looks it over, then puts it back and selects another.] But anyway, a lot of human foods are like that. What they look like, the color and texture and composition, somehow matter as much as the nutritional value, or more. Imagine having so much creative energy as a species that you can waste it making ice cream clowns.

I'm a bit envious in that respect.

I can understand a human desire for food to look appealing. I suppose if they weren't at least attracted to certain colours or textures, it could lead to eating food that has spoiled.

[Castiel watches over Balthazar's shoulder as he picks over the bottles.]

Ice cream clowns are still strange. And disturbing.

[Balthazar laughs, grinning back at Castiel, and places a couple bottles of champagne in his arms.] Well, I didn't say they were the pinnacle of human achievement. If it makes you feel any better, they more or less just taste like ice cream.

I think we've got enough, do you? We may not end up truly drunk out of our minds from it, but it's plenty for a night of enjoying ourselves on a tropical island.

[Castiel tilts his head slightly.] What else would it taste like?

[He transfers the two bottles to one arm, and looks over Balthazar's choices, before nodding.] This should be enough, at least for now. We shouldn't stay here much longer anyway, considering it isn't warded, so we aren't hidden from Raphael and his followers.

One would think a clown would taste funny. [Ba-dum-tish! Balthazar has never gotten over his love of puns.

He pauses to give Castiel a long, thoughtful, warm look. It's been a while since he was able to get his brother to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. Maybe, as terrible as their imprisonment was, it was worth it if this has come out of it.

Assuming, of course, they can survive to win this war.

Drawing closer to Cas, he wraps a wing around him and nods.] I'm ready if you are, then. Take us back? And then we'll begin celebrating.

A clown would - [Sigh.] That's terrible. [Except it's clear from his tone he doesn't really think so.

This is the first time since reconnecting with Balthazar that Castiel's really allowed himself to be distracted for any significant length of time. He couldn't afford it, not while trying to wage a war against a far more powerful older brother to try to save the world a second time. Now it's clear that they can't afford not to, even though he does feel a twinge of guilt at not immediately trying to pull together whatever remains of the rebels still loyal to him.

He leans into the embrace of Balthazar's wing briefly and nods.] All right. Let's go back, then.

[His wings flare out and he wraps an arm around Balthazar before taking flight. It's as brief as it always is, and they're back at the island. The sun has finished rising and most of the clouds are dissipating. Castiel steps away from Balthazar to check the wards again, since they're only drawn in sand.]

[Balthazar beams at that response. A sigh of resignation and a pretense of disapproval from Cas in this context is as good as laughter. Or maybe Balthazar just doesn't require much encouragement.

He leans into the arm around him as they land. One thing the captivity gave him is plenty of opportunity to be physically close to his beloved brother. They're free now, and he's more than glad of it, but maybe they can continue the familiarity of close contact at least a bit longer...

When Cas steps away, he follows like a puppy.] Champagne first?

That sounds like an appropriate way to celebrate.

[Castiel looks around and picks a spot high up on the beach to sit down. He sets one bottle in the sand beside him and peels the foil off the first, working at popping the cork off. Wordlessly, he extends a wing in invitation for Balthazar to join him.]

I'm so glad you approve, since we've gone to all this trouble. [He's teasing now, prodding verbally because that's just how Balthazar is, it's almost like he doesn't know any other way to interact with the people he cares for.

Castiel can deadpan and headtilt and express feigned or real misunderstanding of figures of speech if he needs to dodge intimacy, even with angels. Balthazar uses jokes to say what he has to say without tipping his hand. Of course, now they're alone and they have time and there's less cause to be defensive. When Castiel extends a wing, Balthazar pauses for a split second, then drops down on the sand next to him and slinks in close under that feathered embrace, curling his own wings around his brother and nestling vessels close enough that there's barely space for air between them.

Oh, yes. There. He needed that way more than he needed liquor.]

Ideally...mm. Champagne is meant to be served chilled, but I think we'll enjoy it regardless.

[Curled up with Balthazar in prison was all about finding comfort in each other against the torture they endured, and the certainty that they were going to be killed. Castiel still has concerns of course - something might happen to the wards while they're too drunk to notice. Raphael, Crowley, or any number of their allies may find them; But it's easier to relax when the threat hanging over them isn't nearly so immediate and he finds himself giving a lot of thought to how different the sensation is based solely on the context of the situation.

He takes a drink from the bottle and offers it to Balthazar as he brings his other wing up to wrap around them as well.]

It's not bad warm. Of course, next time, if you prefer, we can go somewhere where there's snow and then it won't be an issue at all.

[Very true. Desperate clinging is worlds away from comfortable cuddling. Balthazar laughs a little at the secondary clasp of wings, and accepts the bottle, a bit clumsy despite the fact that he hasn't had anything to drink yet.]

Is there going to be a next time, then? I'm already liking the sound of this. Let's go to the Alps. I'll make snow angels if you will.

['Next time' is doubtless contingent upon them surviving the battles ahead, but Balthazar doesn't feel like bringing that up. Castiel being willing to just play and enjoy Creation with him not only once but twice is a beautiful thought. Balthazar takes an enthusiastic drink of the champagne and nestles the bottle in the sand just in front of Castiel's knee.]

[Castiel holds the bottle steady until he's sure Balthazar has it, a bit concerned by the clumsiness. He lets it go, though, deciding that after their ordeal in Heaven, they're lucky if a little clumsiness is the only lingering effect.]

Once we defeat Raphael, we will have more reason again to celebrate. I don't see why we shouldn't go to the Alps.

[And of course he's confident that they will win the war. To lose means Raphael will release Lucifer and Michael from the Cage to destroy the planet, and that simply cannot be allowed to happen. Besides, everything they've suffered through is clearly their older brother's fault, and that isn't something Castiel can just let go.]

The rest of your followers will be jealous if you keep taking vacations with me. [Balthazar is tired, and that's making his inhibitions and coordination drop even without any alcohol as an excuse. He looks happy, though, relieved to be free and basking in Castiel's company. Possibly just a little smug.]

Not that I have a problem with that.

That doesn't seem likely. [Castiel can always find reasonable grounds to spend time away with Balthazar, and he's enjoying himself enough that he doesn't think it's out of the question to make it more of a habit when there's not more important tasks at hand, when they're not at war.

He takes another drink from the bottle and offers it back to Balthazar again.]

You don't think so? You have no idea how much you're looked up to, do you?

[Balthazar clasps his hand around the neck of the bottle, and around Castiel's hand at the same time, holding both together.] It's almost embarrassing talking to the rest of your followers. Some of them seem just shy of swooning at times. At least I'm capable of adoring you with dignity and restraint.

[He drinks from the bottle, licks his lips, and gives Castiel a light kiss on the inner wrist before relinquishing his grip.

Dignity and restraint. Sure.]

Of course, I know they respect me. They wouldn't follow me if they didn't. But nobody swoons. Or almost does.

[Balthazar kisses Castiel's wrist and he feels a pleasant shiver go down his spine. He takes another drink and wraps an arm around Balthazar's waist.]

Maybe not in front of you... [Okay, he may be exaggerating a little bit. As far as he can tell there are few angels who feel for Castiel quite the way he does. But there are plenty who think he's their Father's new chosen representative and hang desperately on his words.

Whereas Balthazar himself is capable of calling Cas out if he thinks he's full of it, even needling and teasing him. But for all that, he'd lay down his life without a second thought.]

Mmm. Would you like me to swoon? I could. [He grins at the arm around his waist, cuddling up.]

Well, I am grateful for their loyalty regardless. [And Balthazar's too, of course. Truthfully, Castiel needs someone who can be honest with him when he crosses the line, and he appreciates his brother all the more for it.]

Hmm. I don't think swooning will be necessary. [He takes another drink and sets the bottle down, leaning into Balthazar's shoulder.]

[On some level, Balthazar also just enjoys being a jackass, which says a lot about him. On the other hand, it also says a great deal about Castiel that he not only puts up with it but accepts it as an aspect of his brother's personality. One which, however annoying, is worth putting up with for the rest of him.

That's a huge thing to Balthazar, and he'll probably never be able to say it in words.

When Cas leans against him, he turns and curls into it for a moment, actually daring to nuzzle his hair.]

Thank you for this. [The best possible gift between them is time.

But the drinks are icing on the cake.] You should try the apple brandy!

[His propensity for tormenting and being a jackass is another one of those things that in Balthazar's case, Castiel is willing to make an exception for, where he wouldn't for others.

He sighs contentedly as Balthazar nuzzles his hair.]

You don't need to thank me. This is exactly what both of us needed.

[He straightens up a little when Balthazar mentions the brandy.] All right, pass the apple brandy, then.

[Balthazar grins and sorts through their various ill-gotten bottles until he finds what he's looking for. Yes, this sort is very sweet but with a hell of a kick. He thinks Cas will enjoy it.

It's a smaller bottle, but there are two of them, so he opens them both and lets Castiel have one all to himself.] Cassi...do you think when all this is over there might be a chance for, I don't know, something that's not fighting? I'd thought about a vineyard once, or an art gallery...

Something lovely and harmless.

[Castiel accepts the bottle and takes a drink from it. It's sweet, but strong, and it doesn't take him long to decide he likes it enough to take a second drink as he mulls over Balthazar's question. He doubts there's any chance that he will be spending any significant amount of time away from Heaven after they defeat Raphael, but the whole point of allowing the angels free will means his brothers and sisters will be able to decide what they want to do. If some of them want to find a quiet space to settle down and do something a little more peaceful, then they will be free do so.]

Once Raphael is defeated, you will be able to do whatever you like.

Not just for me, though. [He insists softly, drinking his brandy.]

I mean, not that I expect you to run away with me. I know you'll have things you want to do. [Things he'll feel obligated to do.]

But you could visit. I know you. You like parks and quiet outdoors. You'd love a little orchard.

You're right, I would enjoy an orchard; and I would visit, as often as I could, of course.

[He had been hoping that with Raphael defeated, there would be - mostly - an end to the fighting. Or the fighting between siblings, at least. He never really thought Balthazar would look for something else to do.] You could stay, you know.

Stay...where? You mean in Heaven? [He's...not so sure about that. It would be different with Castiel in charge, no doubt. Better, he thinks.

But as much as Balthazar trusts Cas, he's reluctant to put trust in the rest of his siblings. They're broken. All of them, him and Castiel included.

He wants to believe Cas can make the fighting stop--and part of him does think if it can be done, it can only be done by an angel like sweet, valiant, well-meaning Castiel--but he's still afraid. And that won't change easily.]

Of course. Why not? [He understands why Balthazar left, of course. Too much loss, too much infighting, all things Castiel is hoping they'll be able to change once Raphael is defeated.]

Everything is going to be much different once Raphael is gone. I know some of our siblings don't understand the concept of free will particularly well. But you do. You could be very helpful. [Indirect though it may be, it's Castiel's way of admitting he doesn't want Balthazar to go and also will likely need his help.]

Cas. [It's a small protest, almost a sigh, and slowly he turns his head to rest his forehead on his brother's shoulder.]

I want to help you. You know I do. [He wouldn't be here if that weren't the case, after all. There are a number of times he could have run from Castiel's side since this particular war began, and he hasn't yet, though he's considered it and hated himself for it.]

I don't know if I can go back to Heaven. Even thinking about it...I'm afraid.

[Castiel's arm leaves Balthazar's waist, and settles around his shoulders instead, so he can gently stroke his hair.]

I know you want to help, and you certainly have done that. We never would have gotten this far without you. [There's a very faint smile as he tilts his head to lean it against Balthazar's.] Who else would I have been able to trust to unsink the Titanic?

[He nestles the bottle of apple brandy into the sand beside him and wraps his other arm around Balthazar as well.] What scares you about returning to Heaven once we've defeated Raphael?

[Oh. Well, that's an unexpected treat! Balthazar has a fleeting thought that he should feel his dignity wounded at being petted like a golden retriever. He abandons it quickly, though. That feels good.

He nudges his forehead against Castiel's, smiling a little and hugging back. There's a hint of wistfulness in his face and his voice, but the contact is grounding, particularly after where they've been.]

Other angels. Cassi...I told you the fighting will never stop, and I still believe that. Our Father made us to be warriors first and foremost; that we're brothers and sisters also was an afterthought. If we're not fighting demons, we'll just tear one another apart. And I can't bear it. I know I can't.

[Castiel's fingers curl, running through Balthazar's hair and massaging his scalp. He shifts slightly, adjusting his wings around them, careful not to knock over the bottle beside him.

He lets his forehead rest against Balthazar's, returning the small smile. The topic might not be the most pleasant, but curled up on the beach, cuddling with the brother he doesn't admit is his favourite, there's nowhere he'd rather be.]

Then those that want to fight can fight demons. They're certainly not in short supply. As long as there's something to be united against, the other angels won't fight each other.

Oh, Castiel. [That touch feels good, decadent, better than liquor. Balthazar still has his doubts, of course, but with wings around him and Castiel's smile warming his skin like a sunbeam, it's not hard to dismiss them.]

I don't know that it's that simple, but if you want me to, I'll try. I've been following you of late, anyway, I might as well just keep tagging along for the rest of eternity, hm? [It's more meant to be a tease than a romantic declaration, but...well. There it is.]

[Castiel continues the massage, fingers moving in small circles against Balthazar's scalp.]

I'd like you to try, yes. At least for a little while. Once we're no longer needed, we can go find your art gallery, or vineyard, or whatever else you would prefer. [He pauses briefly, considering his words.] In light of what we've both experienced, I'd rather we not be separated.

[Balthazar's eyes drift closed slowly in contentment at the attention. Not just his vessel's eyes, in fact--the myriad eyes of his trueform fall half-shut in contentment, Grace thrumming with it.]

Mmm. 'In light of what we've experienced'...you're still trying to protect me, aren't you?

If all of Heaven were like you, the fighting really would stop. We'd all be looking out for one another.

[Castiel's fingers make their way to the back of Balthazar's neck.]

We should all be looking out for one another. We need to be able to rely on each other, not just because we're siblings, but also because it is very difficult to work together against a common enemy when we're also fighting each other.

Just because we're siblings should be enough. [Balthazar grumbles a little, but it's hard to be upset with Castiel doing that to the back of his neck. His feathers rustle, wings shivering.]

I suppose it bothers me that it isn't. Not sure that will change. I don't understand why what seems so obvious and vital to me isn't obvious to everyone else. [He sighs and shifts gingerly, head resting on Castiel's shoulder now.] It's been very frustrating.

[But Cas is still a bright spot, somehow. Prone to emotional restraint, but also prone to high ideals, sibling bonds among them. Balthazar places one of his hands between his brother's shoulderblades, bracing and rubbing lethargically.]

Of course it should be enough, but there are more reasons for those who don't agree. [He thinks that over, fingers still rubbing at the back of Balthazar's neck.] Although I suppose human siblings fight quite a bit as well.

[He tilts his head to lean against Balthazar's and lets his eyes drift partially shut.] It could change. It should change. There's plenty of sensible arguments as to why we shouldn't be fighting each other. We can set a good example for the others.

They do. [He smiles a little. The Winchesters are his most concrete model of human brotherhood, and while he doesn't hate them the way he pretends to, he's not exactly inclined to view them as a shining example. Still, they're devoted to one another, in their broken, co-dependent way. Perhaps angels aren't as far off from that as he fears?

He dares to nuzzle against Cas' shoulder, sighing.] I don't do sensible, Castiel. You'll have to be sensible. I'll be...whatever I am. Annoying and sentimental. Perhaps we balance each other out.

It wasn't that long ago that we weren't fighting each other like this. It wasn't always this bad. The others will remember, as long as we give them reason to.

[He wraps his arm back around Balthazar's shoulders and plants a light kiss on the top of his head.] You're not annoying. Sentimental, perhaps, yes; and we do compliment each other well.

[If angels could purr, he'd purr at that kiss.] That's why you're my favorite, you know. You keep me steady. You have for thousands of years. I couldn't love you more if our Father popped in to order me, specifically, to do just that.

[Talk about sentimental. And he isn't even drunk yet!] But are you sure I'm not even a little bit annoying? I try so hard.

[Castiel rests his head back against Balthazar's, letting his eyes drift partially closed in contentment.]

You know I feel the same way about you, don't you? Even though I don't say it. That's why I don't find you annoying, even though you clearly do try.

I thought you might, but I wasn't sure. I like fooling other people, but I'd prefer not to fool myself. [He chuckles softly, feeling nothing but bliss and the mild buzz of brandy.]

But since you've just confirmed it, I know now. [He reaches for the bottle, trying not to dislodge them from this very comfortable cuddle pile. He does feel he needs to be a little drunker for this level of emotion, though. Possibly Cas does, too.]

[Castiel grabs his bottle and takes a long drink. That sort of confession definitely requires a follow up with a lot more alcohol.]

I would have said something sooner, but the time was never right, and we've always been otherwise occupied.

Mm. We're celestial warriors who aren't even technically designed for free will. Of course we were otherwise occupied. [He takes a swig from his bottle and grins, giddy from the exchange.

Hell, maybe they'll continue to be otherwise occupied, but at least he knows what he feels goes two ways. That's a fair sight better than he'd hoped.]

Let me preen your wings for you, Cas? Before I get too drunk to enjoy it.

Maybe God intended for us to discover free will on our own all along. The times he intervened, after all, were while we were trying to stop the Apocalypse.

[It helps encourage him, this belief that God has helped them because they're on the right path, and doing what He had always intended them to do. Castiel prefers that explanation for why God left in the first place too - Maybe leaving Heaven was a way to force the angels to figure out how to stand on their own.

The offer drags his attention back to Balthazar. It's been a long time since anyone's preened his wings for him, and there's no denying that, especially after their ordeal, his feathers are in pretty sorry shape.]

All right. Thank you. I'll look after yours after.

[He's comfortable enough, curled up together, that it takes him a few moments to unwrap his wings from around them and stretch them out with a good shake, before shifting so his back is facing Balthazar.]

[Where, he wants to know, does Castiel get this boundless well of philosophical optimism? Balthazar still can't help but think He gave up on the lot of them. Whether that was deserved on their part or not, he can't be sure, but to a certain extent he feels deceived, betrayed by...he's not even sure what. The archangels, or the Host itself, maybe.

But Cas he can trust. He ruffles the other angel's hair gently, but says nothing for the moment. He'll try to look at it his brother's way, at least for now. It's a kinder outlook.

The flash of wings makes him feel better altogether. He's missed wing preening, and the dark iridescence of Cas' feathers is one of the prettiest sights he knows of.]

Mmm. I'll take you up on that if you're not careful. You're all rumpled, but still glossy...let's see... [He starts with the primaries, relaxing into the task at once. It's strangely meditative.]

[Castiel runs a hand through his hair to push it somewhat back into place, but otherwise lets the ruffling slide. He's feeling a minor, but pleasant buzz from the alcohol, it's warm, beautiful, and they're free. There's not much that's going to faze him.]

I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. You need it just as much as I do, I imagine.

[He relaxes as Balthazar goes to work on his wings, and takes another drink from his bottle. His eyes close and he sighs contentedly.]

[Since when is Castiel's hair ever in place? Not that Balthazar's is either, but he likes his ruffled like he's just rolled out of bed. The I-have-a-mild-hangover look should not be attractive, but somehow it gets him a lot of mileage.]

I definitely need it. I need your hands all over my wings. [He teases gently, deliberately making an innuendo of it.

His own hands are gentle, though, and precise in the attentions they administer. He smooths one feather at a time, then strokes them flat with his palms, working from the far end of the wing in closer to Castiel's back. Partway through he starts to lean against him lazily, though.]

[There's ruffled, then there's totally disheveled. Or at least, this is the argument he would make, when truthfully, it's more just about undoing Balthazar's mess.]

Unless you've been looking after them yourself when I haven't been paying attention.[That might be an innocent comment, or maybe not.

Castiel rests one hand in the sand as Balthazar leans against him.] Hmm. That already feels better. Thank you.

No, it's no fun just doing them myself. [He's not sure whether Cas is being playful or not, but he'll run with it, either way.]

And it feels better because I have magic fingers. [He almost purrs the words, but he's more being silly than being sultry just now, and he's aware of it. He does pause to nuzzle the nape of Castiel's neck, though, just because it's there, then works his way out along the other wing, in no hurry.

In between preening, though, he's drinking, possibly at a higher rate than his brother. Apple brandy is a little sweeter than what he's used to consuming; it goes down very easily, indeed. It'll take another couple bottles to make him tipsy, but he's starting to feel a very welcome buzz.]

Your wings are smoother than most, you know. Silky. Has anyone ever told you that?

That's what I suspected you would say. You knew I would offer eventually. [He reaches for his bottle and takes a long drink to hide his smile, choking back laughter at Balthazar's magic fingers comment.]

You're being ridiculous. You know that, don't you? You are very good at it.[He lets out a deep, comfortable sigh as Balthazar nuzzles against the nape of his neck.]

Are they? No one's ever mentioned it before.

Well, hope springs eternal. [He can tell when Cas is amused, though he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen him actually laugh out loud. Oh, but this is cute, though, watching him stifle a chuckle with a mouthful of liquor.

Balthazar is used to decadence; brandy on the beach is decadent in its way. Being with Castiel feels wholesome, though, and the blend of the two emotions is a quicker way to make him giddy than drinking would be. He huffs a soft laugh into the hair at the back of Castiel's head, nuzzles again, and then pets a wing.]

I like being ridiculous. It's a luxury we don't get much, on duty.

And yes, they're silky. Like running my fingers through the night sky. Where do you keep the stars? [He makes a tickling motion against the downy feathers near a joint.]

I suppose that's true. I have noticed that you enjoy being as ridiculous as possible as often as you can. [He doesn't even try to sound annoyed. Balthazar will no doubt see right through him anyway. They've been friends for far too long.]

[Brandy, the beach, and Balthazar. Castiel couldn't be happier, really. He's not even focused on the war any more; choosing to focus on the moment instead. He lets his eyes close and relaxes into Balthazar's touch.]

Hmm. I don't think I need to hide stars in them. [His wing flares out reflexively as he's tickled.]

Edited 2015-10-02 12:19 (UTC)

[OOC: She's a descendent of Lawrence Talbot, so yes...have at...for all your modern gothic horro needs]

[OOC: Descendent of Dr. Henri Moreau, yeeeah we got a bit of a theme going on.]

[ooc: He's a Marvel mutant original character (full info in profile). m/m for shipping. OTA except Brimstone option ]

[ It's been a little over a year since Steve came back from the impossible. His recovery both in the ice and after it gave fuel to the idea that perhaps the same could be said of his old friend Bucky Barnes — judging by how he was rescued back in '43, something had to be different. Maybe he survived the fall. It's been a little over two years since then but searching the mountain pass was a place to start, to no avail. But six months after that venture, whispers of something brewing in Russia has begun to catch the attention of the SSR, something that may or may not be linked to the program Peggy and the Commandos stumbled across. Maybe it wasn't just a camp for little girls, not just homegrown assassins like the one who came after Peggy, Howard, any of them.

They don't know they're looking for Bucky. They know they're chasing a ghost story more than anything else, one that may or may not lead to some sort of answer. Peggy and Steve are on a mission with the Commandos (the gang's all back together) when they're ambushed, separated — and when she wakes up the first time, she's strapped to a table and she can hear Steve yelling from the next room. It's days of this. Maybe longer, but she can't track the time in a place with no windows. It's easy to figure from there that Captain America had been the target, that the serum locked in his genetic code had been the prize; that the order had been to capture him and someone to test the experimental serum on before giving it to their own men. It could have been any of the other Commandos, but as luck would have it, Peggy Carter was the one they snatched. (Little girls handcuffed to beds might grow into something more lethal if this succeeds. Maybe they did want a woman to begin with.)

The small blessing is she and Steve have adjoining cells, reinforced, locked away. It's dark and quiet and the respite is brief, but even scientists need their beauty sleep. She's exhausted, she hurts, her skin is buzzing and she doesn't want to ask Steve if this is what it felt like after he came out of Stark's machine because it would mean it's worked. They've gone at them both in labs and on tables, the difference being his healing factor and her... Well, God, she isn't even sure if the trials are taking or if they'll kill her (and him) first. Either they come out of this alive and far more similar than they imagined or—

She reaches between the bars to hold his hand and doesn't entertain the or. ]

They'll come, you know. [ Her voice is a soft rasp of breath, but the impossible warmth is genuine. Her eyes flicker open to seek Steve out in the darkness, fingers lacing with his. ] The Commandos, the SSR. They know we're out here.

[ Even when the idea had first been suggested, of course Steve immediately jumped at the prospect. To believe that his best friend might have survived that drop from the train, it was too good to be real, and he never let go of that hope, clutched at it in a desperation born of the fact that he might not have to blame himself for letting him fall or never going after him. It's a deep pain, one that doesn't end even when they're captured, a careless mistake that could have possibly been avoided--it's what he tells himself anyway. Now, he has something else to fight for, something else held over his head he'll never be forgiven for.

He doesn't give up.

Steve doesn't know where any of them are when consciousness finds him after, though there's whispers of the woman, and it doesn't take much to realize what it is they're after the first time they get a needle in him. He breaks the restraint with a hard jerk of his leg, breaks one of the technician's noses and throws the other into a wall. It's as far as he gets before there are too many bodies on him to fight, his vision blurring at the edges, and he's shouting Peggy's name over the roar of whatever it is they're doing to him. It shouldn't have been possible, not with the effects of the serum so potent in his blood, but Steve passes out, wakes up confined and perfectly immobile. He grits his teeth so hard his jaws aches, questions everything until his voice is raw, and the only reprieve that comes of it is when they drop him into a cell adjacent to the woman he would tear the place down to keep safe.

The dark helps to conceal just how badly a beating he's taken since they'd been taken; healing factor aside, his lip is split, the places they stick him stitching together a lot slower than is normal. Steve also thinks he might have fractured his wrist at one point, but as it aches as much as the rest of him, it's only a small problem. He takes her hand without a thought, the weight of her presence a balm to the sting of what it is he knows they're doing to her, and he would ask had he thought it would solve anything. Best to distract her, distract themselves. Try to think of a way to escape before he's dead and she becomes the ghost story. ]

We could be anywhere. [ Which means they'd be looking in the wrong direction, in the wrong place completely. He rests his forehead against the bars, sighing slowly and keeping his voice just above a whisper. ] They won't stop until they have what they want, Peggy. We've got to find our own way out.

[ She knows. God, she knows it. It wouldn't do to hang on to the vain hope that they've managed to track them here, with the vastness of the wild they'd been trekking their way through. They don't even know if the others had managed to survive in the first place — which is a painful thing in of itself, something that reinforces the thought that she (they) get people killed if the Commandos hadn't made it out. If they're dead, no one is coming. If they're alive, where would they begin? Steve's right, of course, that they need to dig themselves out of this hole. She also knows they're capable of it, a solid team, and these idiots who decided to haul them into their base didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

But are they in any shape to do this? They have to be. She doesn't know the extent of Steve's injuries but she imagines he has them for all the thrashing he must have done to get free. That they managed to subdue him is worry enough. She doesn't tell him they've been hurting her, too, to test the rate of her newfound healing ability. All she can feel are needles, always needles, and she'd known about this from the beginning, knew that Steve being the greatest scientific feat of the century would come at this price somehow. Further still now that he's returned from the dead. And she is sorry; God, she is so sorry, because all he ever did was volunteer to fight for his country. He didn't sign up for this.

Peggy closes her eyes, feeling the familiar and betraying burn of tears, but she keeps it all from her voice. Her tone is simply soft, bracing. Trying to inject some levity into a hollow place. ]

Well, I'm afraid I've exhausted all versions of "damsel in distress" and our lovely hosts aren't buying it. [ There's a hitch of breath that could be a laugh, but it never quite makes it out the gate. Her hand squeezes his, her tone sobers up. ] I know you're right, my darling. We've got to meet the boys halfway, it's our only shot. What are you proposing?

[ The only point of vulnerability she can suss out is when they take them from the cells to the labs. They can work with that. ]

( it's difficult to say how long it's been since they've both seen daylight - eight days? maybe nine? wanda stopped counting at day five -, locked up in a damp, dark cell god knows where with no way of reaching anyone on the outside. the only thing they know about their captors is that they're HYDRA - wanda's recognized a few faces -, and that they're more than prepared for the two of them.

at first, they're kept in separate cells. they keep wanda sedated, fit her with an IV and inject her with something that makes her veins burn and, as she quickly finds out, dwindles her abilities down quite significantly - her telekinesis is practically gone, and they've found a way to shield themselves from any sort of mental manipulation. they're careful to keep contact with her to a minimum, only long enough to fill her up with drugs before they're out again, leaving her alone.

on the third day, wanda's taken to a different cell with a task and a promise to go free when the task is completed, but it's here she learns that she isn't alone, and the revelation is both relieving and absolutely sickening. they push her into his cell hard enough to send her dropping to her hands and knees, and it's only when the cell door clangs closed behind her that she finally looks up, and what she sees is a nightmare.

it's sickening to see him like this - chained to the wall at the wrists, beaten and dirty and... not anything like the man she knows. they've tortured him, they had to have for him to look the way he does, and wanda swallows hard as she remembers the task they've given her, and finds that she can't suppress the sob that shakes her as she crawls toward him to wake him.

remove the winter soldier. anything, everything he knows.

on the fourth day, HYDRA quickly learns that wanda isn't going to cooperate as easily as they'd hoped, so they motivate her by letting her watch as they push Steve to the edge of his breaking point, and they only stop when she screams for them to, tells them that she'll do it.

when they leave them alone, locked up in their cell, wanda curls up close beside him and touches her fingers to his cheek, sending him off to sleep with visions of better days.

on the fifth day, they torture her instead, and wanda questions just how important it is to let him remember, if any of this is really worth it. she thinks of pietro, then, and how much it had hurt to lose him physically. the thought of losing everything is a pain she can't even fathom, and she decides, then, that nothing is worth inflicting that sort of pain on anyone else. certainly not someone like Steve.

the days that follow are a bit of a blur and wanda slips in an out of consciousness through most of them, curled in on herself on the floor with her head resting by steve's knees. when she wakes again, she finds him with his eyes open, more alert than what she's grown used to in the past several days, and she blinks up at him, pushing herself up with the little bit of energy she has left. she murmurs something unintelligible, and then carefully touches a hand to his knee. )

... Hey.

( her voice is nearly gone, and she looks just as bad as he probably feels, but that doesn't stop her from offering the faintest of smiles. )

Edited 2015-05-21 03:10 (UTC)

[ Everything is a bit too convoluted to be singled down to real or not real. Steve's conscious in patches, brief stints that only last long enough to get a grasp of what's going on around him, and even then, it doesn't mean much. The constraints don't bite into his skin as much as they had at the beginning, but he's also not trying to rip them from the walls anymore. The fatigue grows, and the taste of blood becomes so familiar, it doesn't feel right when there's nothing there. Or it's there, and he just doesn't taste it anymore. Pain is secondary to the struggle of wanting to be free, to help —

Steve thinks he remembers Wanda screaming, remembers the red of her eyes. Was she crying? Was that him? It's rare that he's knocked so deep he vaguely recalls his own name, but the world is far too hazed to be put together properly.

They leave him for a day or two, and that seems to be enough to kick his healing into overdrive, waking to the pressure of a body against his and the knowing weight of something uncomfortable around his wrists. He can only breathe out of his mouth, nose probably busted to hell and back, but at least he can still see. There's the swell of a bruise around his eye, but it's nothing he can't handle, nothing that he isn't used to. The crack of a smile he gives her shows the pink in his teeth, the light they still haven't managed to break him of. ]

Hey. [ But his lungs hate him for breathing in too deep, the word choked, and he groans, wants to roll away from it but does nothing except continue looking at her. ] How long ...?

[ How long have they been in here? How much longer does she think they have? Steve tries to get his mind working, to think. But it's dry, like it's close to cracking, and it hurts. ]

( wanda shifts, tucks her legs underneath her and sits as close to him as possible without touching him for fear of aggravating any of his injuries. her one hand hovers over his knee and she has to fight the urge to reach up and smooth what little hair that isn't plastered down with blood and sweat away from his face and out of his eyes. anything to make him look more like the leader she knows him to be and less like a nearly-broken man.

it's hard to watch him smile like that, to see the blood in his teeth and the purple around his eye knowing that he has no idea that she's mostly to blame for all of it. if she'd just cooperated, done what they'd asked and shifted some memories here, removed things there, he'd probably be in much better shape, but--

but she knows how important the winter soldier - bucky - is to him. she knows what it's like to lose a brother, to be that close to someone, and she won't take that away from him, not willingly.

wanda shakes her head slowly and exhales, wetting her chapped lips and pulling her hands back into her lap. her fingers pick idly at the tape securing the IV catheter to the back of her right hand and she fights the need to look away from him, holding his gaze instead.

stay awake. stay here, with me. her tired eyes brighten a little and there's the faintest wisp of red. )

I—... I don't know. I stopped counting after five days.

Freaks. That's what they were. Hunters typically kill monsters. These hunters however decided to make a little profit from their skills. They had collected an assortment of supernatural creatures. From your typical vampire and werewolf, to the more hard to contain demon - and even an angel.

A mutant like Eli, well, they'd never heard of such a thing before - and figured he was just another monster like the rest of them. He was thrown in (literally) with the angel. With all of the magic sigils throughout the complex, there really was no form of escape for any of them - unless someone from the outside helped them.

Except for Eli. His abilities were no supernatural or magical in nature, they were biological, evolutionary, but the hunters didn't know that.

All of them were in cages. He looked at his fellow prisoner, wondering who -or what- Castiel might be. He moved to the opposite side of the cage, for all he knew, Castiel could be a werewolf or something.

[When he returns to the area where he and Castiel are being kept, there's blood smeared on his knuckles, viscera flecking his face. He doesn't so much as pause on his way to the bathroom, seeming to completely ignore the fallen angel as he strips his soiled, torn clothes off and steps into the shower, not bothering to close the door behind him. At this point in their captivity, they're beyond those kind of boundaries and even if they weren't, he knows Cas would likely come in anyway, wanting to ensure his well-being. He turns the faucet on hot and lets it hit him, tilting his face into the spray. The water that sluices off him is tinted red. He stands there for several long minutes, unmoving, eyes closed.]

[ well, she's a dystopian future serial killer with very little emotion to show most of the time. this should be fun. ]

[Particularly interested in ＣＡＰＴＵＲＥＤ, ＶＡＬＵＥ, ＳＣＩＥＮＴＩＦＩＣ or ＰＥＲＳＥＣＵＴＥＤ, but can roll with anything but torture. f/m. cross-canon and assumed cr welcomed.]

[ pass on freakshow and brimstone, please. ]

[Easy on the rack. The rest are fair game.]

[Identity is compromised (no brimstone, no freakshow setting)

Will be slow posting]

Edited 2015-05-21 03:21 (UTC)

_{[In which Signless' dream bubble might as well be his hell because it's his own execution replayed over and over.]}

Edited 2015-05-21 04:17 (UTC)

[Thanks to the power of the Chitauri scepter, their enemies were more powerful than ever. A mission gone wrong and Hydra managed to use their newfound abilities to capture and contain both Steve and Loki, both in different cells.

They must have realized right away that Captain America would never fight for them, regardless of whatever tortures or threats they might level upon him. Loki, however... they knew he held no great love for humanity as a whole. He'd only recently made peace with his brother and the Avengers as a whole, mostly thanks to Steve Rogers' efforts. The two had become close, far closer than Loki had ever expected from anyone on Midgard. Other than Thor, he was the one person here the trickster would be willing to go out of his way to protect.

Hydra must have figured that out beforehand. Honestly it wasn't a very well-kept secret, not with the way Loki enjoyed flaunting their relationship as a means to embarrass Steve more often than not. If only he had a little more forethought, this might not have happened. Not in this way.

Loki stood behind thick, reinforced steel bars with his hands bound in powerful cuffs that cut off his ability to access his magic. They told him he was the weapon they desired, and that Steve would only be kept alive so long as he cooperated and followed every command they gave him. Failures would result in the Captain's torture and death, depending on how serious the infraction.

And sure enough, Loki listened. Out of fear of Thor taking him back, Hydra didn't send him up against the Avengers, but they did send him on missions that involved killing other enemies. He knew it was wrong, that none of the other Avengers would go through with it. He did it regardless, and when he was allowed to visit Steve in his 'room,' it was only to make sure he was still alive. Speaking about their deal was forbidden.]

[ Given their relationship, it was only natural that they would go on a mission together. There were a few jokes from Stark and some words of encouragement from Thor, but everyone knew Steve and Loki were the perfect fit for the mission. It was a simple extraction, anyways. With Loki's magic and Steve's tactical skills, they'd be out by the next day.

Unfortunately HYDRA had different plans for them.

They were captured, separated, and thrown in the separate cells. Steve's own cell was actually more than a 'cell.' It was more of a small living quarter made of fortified steel. If Steve wanted to, he could escape. But HYDRA was smarter than that. They knew exactly how to get Steve to do what they wanted, and that was through Loki. Any attempt to escape would end Loki's life. He couldn't risk it.

So all he could do was sit and watch the monitors helplessly as he saw Loki become the thing that everyone had warned him about. He'd watch as the Asgardian would destroy, ravage, and murder. Watch as someone who he had trusted turned his back and went back to his old ways. And even though he knew it was wrong, Steve couldn't risk Loki getting hurt if he attempted to leave.

But every few days Loki would visit Steve. At first Steve was relieved. He was happy to know that the Asgardian was still alive, but that happiness soon turned to concern, then hurt, betrayal and finally the inevitable disappointment.

So when he heard the metal bars slide open this time, he didn't even bother to turn around and see who it was. He already knew, and he didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see someone he had trusted with everything as the monster he'd become. ]

Edited 2015-05-21 14:43 (UTC)

[Loki knew he was losing Steve day by day, saw how each time he came to visit pleasant smiles gradually faded until the man couldn't even be bothered to look at him. He tried to console himself with reminders that he was doing this to keep Steve safe and alive, but as time went on, he wondered if those excuses would even matter. Knowing who he was, the Captain would probably be even more furious with him for going through with these missions for his sake.

He didn't know what else to do. Loki had been accused of selfishness on more than one occasion, so perhaps this was only just another example. Even so, he couldn't find it in him to let Steve be hurt in the place of nameless humans. Seeing him well during his visits was likely the only thing that kept his mind in tact throughout it all.]

Steve.

[Loki didn't think he was allowed to get too close. He wore the cuffs that suppressed his magic whenever he went to see Steve because they still worried about an escape attempt, but what if they plotted something in whispers? Hydra was too careful. Loki needed more time to figure out a way to free the other Avenger or watch this indifference turn to outright hate.]

Are you well?

[ Steve nearly flinched when Loki said his name like that. There was so much he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to say. Why was he doing this? Was everything before just an act? Was he with HYDRA all along? Was the reason they were here part of some plan Loki had all this time? There were too many possibilities and those weren't even the worst. There was always the possibility that Loki could have just been easily persuaded by HYDRA for his own selfish needs.

The possibility that Loki would easily toss Steve and everyone aside so easily had hurt. The soldier would try to convince himself every day that it wasn't possible. But the longer time went on, the longer he saw Loki mercilessly kill innocent people, it was harder to convince himself. ]

I'm doing better than the people you hurt today. [He still didn't bother turning around and focused his attention at the small unbreakable window. The view had nothing of interest except for a big blue sky, and a forest that seemed to stretch for miles, but it was better than looking at the other man in the room. ]

I see.

[The words themselves wouldn't sting so much if he didn't realize how much disappointment was behind them. Doing what Hydra asked to keep Steve safe was selfish, but it still felt like the right thing to do. For someone who has lived over a thousand years, it was difficult to give much value to the strangers he killed compared to the person he'd finally come to care deeply for. Wouldn't Thor do the same for Jane?]

I can't stay long. I just wanted to check on you.

[He wanted to do so much more, but there was no choice. Not yet.

Loki didn't trust that Hydra would keep up their part of the deal forever. He knew they feared an encounter between Loki and the remaining Avengers, and wondered how long they would risk putting him out in the field before deciding it was too risky. At that point, would there be any need to keep Steve alive? If they could control Loki's sorcery already, cooperation with experiments and the like could be forced.

He needed to come up with a plan himself. For whatever reason, Steve wasn't able to escape either.]

I'm fine.

[Steve finally looked back and gave Loki a once over. The handcuffs would imply that Loki was still a prisoner, but now that he's working for HYDRA Steve didn't see a need for them anymore. Despite all of Steve's asking, Loki had never given a reason for what he'd been doing. As the days went on, it was harder and harder to find an excuse.

If he'd really did change, then how could he continue doing what he was doing for so long?

Maybe it was all an act and Steve was an idiot for falling for it when everyone else had warned him. Maybe he should escape regardless of the consequences. No, despite everything, he couldn't risk Loki getting hurt. Even if he had turned his back on The Avengers and everything they stood for, Steve couldn't bring himself to put Loki's life at risk. ]

You can stop pretending to be their prisoner now.

I could.

[He wouldn't deny it. Once uncuffed and on a mission, Loki could stop being Hydra's prisoner so quickly they wouldn't have a clue where he'd gone off to. How they knew this would work so well troubled him, but they were constantly reminded that Steve would keep him from running alone.]

As could you.

[It was an interesting thought, what would happen if Steve ran. Loki assumed they must have threatened his life in such an event, but would they go through with that? Almost certainly not. He was too useful to them.]

In fact I highly recommend-

[But before he could finish his sentence, the door opened and a few agents came to lead him from Steve's room. They must have suspected he was going to say something unauthorized and acted quickly.]

Until next time! [Loki called back before the door slammed shut behind him. Well, perhaps Steve would get the idea.]

[ Recommend? What did that mean?

Steve turned around and searched Loki's face for a hint of what that could mean. If there was still any hint that the person he trusted more than anyone was still in there.

He stood up, but the guards quickly came in and stepped between them before he could reach the Asgardian.

Loki was trying to tell him something. Did he know? Did know about the threats they made? Was the same threat made to him? There was a part of Steve that wanted to believe it. It wanted to believe that Loki wasn't doing all of this on his own, but then all logic had said otherwise. But if there was one shred of hope, Steve would hold on to it.

He approached the metal bars as they slammed shut and he watched Loki's retreating form as he was flanked by the two guards. If he was really working for them, then why would they watch his every move? No, he had to be forced into what he was doing. That could be the only explanation. Why else would they keep them separated like this? ]

I'm not leaving without you! [The words echoed down the hallway and Steve could only hope that they reached Loki.]

[Loki only had the opportunity to break from his impassive mask briefly before being pulled from the room. A brief widening of his eyes to emphasize his mostly unspoken point, likely useless without anything to go along with it.

He actually winched slightly when Steve shouted to him as he was escorted down the hall. No, no, no, what an idiotic thing to say! Now Hydra would be watching them even more carefully.

Loki didn't respond to those words, whatever irritation they may have caused. That man was far too good for him, for anyone. He needed to get out of here while there was still a chance, and Loki promised himself he'd get the message across better next time.]

[ Steve watched as Loki's form retreated and eventually disappeared through another doorway.

If there was anything left of the man he cared for, then he'd need to come up with a plan to get them both out. When he saw Loki the next time, he'd be ready. Maybe he'd come up with a hint, or something.

The small desk in the cell wasn't much, but it had papers and pencils. They had probably put it in on the off chance that Steve agreed to cooperate with them. Maybe they thought he'd help with tactical strategy. No, he wasn't going to help, but he decided to draw something. Maybe a message of sorts, maybe it was a subtle hint that would let Loki know that he still trusted him. It was a relatively simple picture he did of the Avengers. It wasn't absolutely perfect, but it was something he managed with the few pens they had provided.

Fortunately green was a color they had given to him. When he finally got to Loki, he picked up the green pen and carefully sketched out every detail of the Asgardian he could bring to mind.

When he had finally finished, it was already the early hours of the morning. He'd leave the drawing out in plain sight. Maybe Loki would take notice of it and HYDRA would think nothing of it. Captain America was just missing his friends after all. ]

[Loki was tired the next time the Hydra agents brought him to visit Steve's cell.

He'd been going on nearly endless missions with very little time to rest, undoubtedly as an attempt to get the most use from him in the field while the opportunity still presented. While his Jotun biology ensured he didn't require nearly as much sleep as a human, he still had limits. They were being tested quite strenuously.

If his sorcery wasn't contained, Loki would have hidden the dark circles under his eyes. As he was, there was no hiding anything so the best he could do was wear a mask of indifference as he stepped into the room.

A mask that melted almost immediately when he caught sight of the drawing Steve had done. The Avengers, with Loki included. It only took him a moment to realize he'd been drawn in an outfit that resembled his earlier ensemble more than what he'd taken to wearing with them on missions once he'd joined. Before he enjoyed some green in his uniform, now he refused to wear anything but black.

It had become something of an inside joke between them. Steve liked when he wore green and would present him with something green before a mission, which Loki would always reject. If this wasn't some sort of hint, then he didn't know what was.]

You've been drawing? Hm. I don't wear green on missions anymore. I always wear black.

[Hydra would likely think he meant what he wore on their missions. Steve would hopefully pick up on the reference to the Avengers instead.]

[Steve felt a muscle in his jaw jump when he saw Loki approach. The last time he'd seen him in this state was after the battle with the Chitauri. Then, Loki had been thrown by the Hulk and attacked multiple times. Steve didn't know exactly what the Asgardian had endured on his missions but he knew he was being pushed to his limits.

He forced himself to pretend that he hadn't noticed. Or that he didn't care.

He also forced himself not to smile and feign indifference when Loki brought up the drawing. Good, hopefully his message was getting across. Hopefully HYDRA wouldn't catch on.]

I noticed. [He looked down at the drawing, forcing himself from making eye contact with Loki.] I think you look a lot better in green but that's not my call anymore.

[It never was his call, but he'd pretend that it was.]

[Steve was obviously trying to get a message across to him, though Loki wasn't entirely sure what. Trying to tell him he still considered him one of the team? That he believed he wasn't truly turned by this organization?

If so, it was a relief to hear. For once Steve was doing a better job remaining indifferent than Loki, though Hydra might consider that a result of his exhaustion.]

No, not anymore. [He smiled thinly and looked away from the drawing. No need to draw too much attention to it.]

Are you well? [He seemed to be. The fact that Hydra kept up with their end of the bargain was the only reason any of these mission continued. Loki still feared the day they'd give up on that.]

Better than you look. [Steve tried to sound indifferent but he shot Loki a quick look of concern before he looked back at the drawing. He didn't want to cause too much suspicion between them.]

I bet you took a beating today. They didn't even show me what you did today. [Take that as his way of asking how Loki was doing. They were wearing him down to nothing and Steve couldn't let that happen. He just hoped he'd have enough time to figure out how to get them both out before Loki was worn down to nothing.]

It's not important.

[If they didn't show Steve, then they probably didn't want him discussing it. Loki wasn't sure why not, really. The people he fought were soldiers from another nation, though he wasn't told which one. Hydra rarely told him anything before sending him on missions, and he didn't see any reason to ask. Who he fought wouldn't change their current situation.]

You should draw somewhere else. You might have a better perspective.

[It was the closest he could get to leave without being pulled out of the cell right away. Even then he saw the agents inching closer, prepared to extract him at any moment.

They should know better. Loki wasn't going to attempt an escape without his magic or any weapons. It would be suicide and he'd get Steve killed.]

[Steve's brow furrowed at Loki's response. Whatever Loki did, he wasn't allowed to talk about it. He wasn't sure exactly how they were controlling him, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was the reason.]

Why would I when I've got everything I need right here? [He looked up to Loki. Hope that he'd take the hint that no matter what happened, he wasn't leaving without him.

He wanted to reach out and touch him. Maybe show a gesture that he cared. That they'd eventually find a way out of here. But he couldn't risk it. This was one of the few times they might be on the same page. ]

Maybe you should take a break. [That was Steve's hint that Loki should leave without him or stop doing whatever HYDRA was forcing him to do. He glanced at the guards who still inched closer, but didn't say anything just yet.]

Don't be a fool-

[But whatever else Loki intended to say was cut off by the agents deciding enough was enough. They weren't stupid, and it was becoming quickly apparent that Steve and Loki were trying to plan something without talking about it directly.

It had been safer when it seemed the Captain was angry with their alien subject. Now it really didn't seem that way.

The higher ups made the decision to stop sending Loki on missions. They kept him in his cell all day, hands bound, and only visited to inject him with various concoctions that either knocked him unconscious or made him feel otherwise awful. Sometimes they took x-rays of him, or drew his blood. Only a fool wouldn't realize his was being used as some sort of science experiment at that point.

They didn't let him visit Steve anymore. Why bother when they could keep him contained at all times? No one thought he was escaping bound and unarmed like he was, and they were right. He couldn't leave without the other Avenger, especially not like this. And as Loki sat on the cot that was his bed, he hoped Steve wouldn't do something foolish.]

Loki-

[ Steve stood, but the guards were in between them and holding him back as the others take Loki away. He pulled against them, but he didn't bother attacking. Not when they had Loki in their hands. Not when Loki was so worn down. Steve wouldn't risk putting his life in danger.

When Loki was finally gone, the guards had closed in, chained him down, and beat him. He was down for a few hours, but his wounds eventually healed.

After that, there was minimal contact with anyone. Outside of the few guards posted by his cell, nobody had interacted with him. Loki had stopped showing up to check on him and the monitors were now blank. It made sense. Just when they had figured out how to communicate with one another, they were separated.

But as the days went on, Steve's concern only grew. Any questions he'd ask about Loki were met with either silence or a gun pointed in his direction. He would pace around the room, rattle bars, and glance up at a blank monitor.

He had to get out.

So one night while the guards were switching out, Steve pulled the drawer out from the small desk they had given him, and like a shield, he used it to ram the lock. The drawer shattered but the lock busted. Of course, the alarms were set off, but he knew that would happen.

It didn't matter anyways, he had to find Loki. ]

[Loki jumped a little when the loud alarms suddenly started blaring through the hallway. He rushed to his feet and stepped up to the cell's bars, trying to glance around for any possible source of the problem. Naturally he couldn't see a damn thing here, didn't really expect it, but he did hear the sound of boots pounding against the floor not far off.

He'd never heard this alarm before, and wondered if someone was attacking the compound. The other Avengers? Loki didn't want to be too hopeful that a rescue might be underway, but given the level of activity he could hear that might very well be the case.

The other option, that Steve might have escaped, seemed less likely. The idiot was resistant to this suggestions that he flee, though his prolonged failure to visit could have changed his mind. Still, probably not.

For the thousandth time he tried to free himself from the cuffs around his wrists, let out a frustrated hiss, and paced around his cell instead. There wasn't much he could do but wait and see. The bars were too strong for him to bust through, the lock well out of reach.]

[Steve ran down the corridors and past guards, occasionally engaging in a scuffle. He had no idea where he was going, but he figured that Loki couldn't be kept too far. Not when he was useful to them.

....At least he hoped he still was. For all he knew, Loki could be dead.

But eventually he'd made his way past guards, throwing them off and knocking them out. It wasn't too long before he found another corridor that lead to a cell very much like his own. The only thing that was different was what was inside.]

Loki! [He called out to the Asgardian.

He was still alive, thank God.]

Edited 2015-05-22 22:52 (UTC)

Steve! What are you-

[He didn't even bother to finish, eyes already wandering back to the lock on the cell door. Steve was already here, so there really was no use trying to shoo him away, however irritating it was that he'd put himself in this sort of danger instead of just leaving.]

-Never mind. Can you open the door?

[If they were both free, there might be a way to open Loki's cuffs and then it would only be a matter of masking them in invisibility until they could sneak out properly. Such a small obstacle, yet so little time... the sound of boots was getting louder every passing moment.]

You'll have to act quickly!

[Steve took a moment to look over Loki. He was in worst shape than the last time he saw him. He didn't know what they'd been doing to him, but he knew he had to get them out. He couldn't let him get hurt anymore. ]

I've got it. Just stand back.

[He backed up and then rammed the door with his body. The door shuttered against its hinges and there was a loud creak. It hurt more without the drawer, but without his SHIELD or anything else, he had no choice. He backed up again and rammed into it, this time groaning when he felt something crack.

He'd be fine. He'd heal.

The door creaked again, and maybe it only need another push or two. Any second they'd be out, and they'd be free. He backed up again and prepared to ram into the door again.

The sound of guns clicking nearby stopped him from going forward.

He let out a breath and slowly put his hands up in surrender. His blue eyes looked at Loki who he had just failed.]

I'm sorry.

What?

[Loki wasn't sure what he should have expected, but Steve slamming his body into the bars wasn't it. He stood back a few paces, mouth hanging open slightly as he considered telling him to stop or not. In the end he let him go on, even after hearing that crack. They were out of time.

Unfortunately, Steve wasn't fast enough even with his speedy efforts.

Loki cursed audibly when the Hydra agents surrounded him and raised their weapons. They ended up opening the cell and tossing Steve in with him with a warning that any further escape attempts would be punished harshly.

And then they left. Loki knew they'd be checking in with their superiors about what to do next. He feared Steve might have to pay for what he'd done, and this time inwardly cursed his inability to be helpful at all in this situation.]

You were supposed to leave! [He rounded on Steve, but his distress was too obvious to allow any intimidation to shine through.] With you gone, I could have escaped during a mission. Don't you see? [Though he knew what Steve would say. How could he have known when Loki was on a mission? Still... he should have left.]

[ Steve hit the ground with a thud as he was shoved inside. He clutched his shoulder where something had cracked and watched as the guards headed out. Obviously they were going to figure out what they should do now that Steve had attempted to break out. It probably meant that their window of time together would be short.

He looked up at Loki when he rounded on him. No matter what Loki did, he couldn't intimidate Steve. Not anymore. Steve knew him too well. ]

I'm not leaving without you. [He grit out the words as he shifted.] And do you think they'd send you out on a mission like that?

[Loki looked terrible. He looked exhausted and worn down, and Steve couldn't think of a time when he'd seen him like this before.]

They haven't sent you on one in a while, have they?

You're too noble for your own good.

[Loki sighed loudly before sinking to the floor beside Steve. He was absolutely exhausted even without the missions thanks to the tests and experiments Hydra put him through, but he wasn't sure how much he wanted to divulge. If Steve was going to injure himself trying to free him without knowing, would he do something even more idiotic if he did?]

They've been occupying me with other matters.

[Slowly, he rested his head on the other man's good shoulder. It was the only gesture of affection he was allowing himself for now, even though he doubted it mattered at that point. A stupid move or not, Loki was relieved to have Steve with him. If there was any chance of escaping on their own, they would be much better off together.]

Your arm. How badly is it injured?

So are you.

[ Steve gave Loki a long look when he mentioned 'other matters.' He didn't know exactly what that meant but he knew it wasn't something Loki would willingly volunteer himself for. Still, he didn't say anything. They were finally together again. Who knew how long they had until they were separated?

He let his head fall against Loki's in a simple return of affection. If it were yup to him, he'd gather the Asgardian into his arms and good him tight. Unfortunately his injury prevented him from doing so.

He gave an experimental flex of his shoulder and winced.]

It'll heal.

Me? Noble?

[That was a laugh. Nobody called Loki noble, even if he had been putting his efforts to better use lately by helping the Avengers rather than fighting them. What he'd done here? He'd helped Hydra because he couldn't bear to see his boyfriend hurt or killed.

And then he smiled slightly, stilled amused by the term 'boyfriend.' Now probably wasn't the time to think about terminology, and yet. It might be the time to do whatever he could while they were both still breathing.]

I have sheets if you need to bind it. I don't know how long they're planning to keep you in here.

[This must be their way of saying we know what you're up to and we're letting you know we know. Loki made a promise to do whatever he could to bargain for Steve's life. They still needed his cooperation, didn't they?]

Would you have done all this for me last year? You could have left any time you wanted to.

[Maybe noble wasn't the best word to describe Loki, but it kind of fit? He'd had definitely changed over the time they'd been together. It was only a few months that they had been together but Steve had seen Loki change for the better. Even if Steve would have preferred Loki to have saved himself, the fact that he was here had proven just how much he had changed.

He looked over at where the sheets were on the bed. It wasn't actually very far at all, but after everything, they seemed like they were a million miles away. He was exhausted, injured, and he didn't want to move away from his lover. At least not yet. ]

I'll bind it in a minute. They've got a long way to walk, anyways.

[Not very long, but long enough for Steve to at least catch his breath. Not long enough for his shoulder to heal, though.]

So you don't blame me.

[It was more of a statement than a question, spoken quietly as though he was worried he'd give Steve a new angle to consider what has happened and change his mind. Loki had been quite concerned that Steve would hold a grudge against him for helping Hydra in order to protect him, but here was some more hope that wasn't the case. Everyone had to have something they believed in, that was worth fighting for. Here on Midgard, that was Steve. Loki wouldn't risk him even if it meant helping the enemy.]

That's fine. I can help you when you're ready.

[He hoped there would be enough time. If agents came to drag Steve away again he didn't know if he'd be able to allow it, and that would undoubtedly end in bloodshed. Perhaps they would be intelligent enough to leave Steve here this time... it wouldn't affect his willingness to cooperate.

If they showed they were willing to be good prisoners for now, maybe it would happen.]

Your hands were tied. I can't blame you for everything.

[No, Steve didn't like that Loki had done any of that for his sake. In fact, it was almost disappointing that because of him, Loki was willing to do whatever it took to keep him alive. But all of that was HYDRA's fault, not the Asgardian's.

They'd talk about it eventually. Whenever they got out of here. If they ever got out of here. Steve liked to have optimism. He liked to hold on to hope, but here in this cell with the both of them injured and exhausted, it was hard to hold on to that hope.

He shifted a bit and glanced over at Loki. He wasn't doing well at all. Whatever HYDRA was doing, was affecting him horribly, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. He pulled his hand away from his shoulder, wincing when he felt the pain spike. He then let his hand touch Loki's arm.]

How bad do you feel?

They still are.

[He lifted his hands to demonstrate, wrists still bound together with special cuffs that somehow suppressed his sorcery. Loki knew that wasn't what Steve meant, but it was a chance to make a light-hearted comment. Even in such a dire situation, it was hard to resist when the opportunity presented.

He offered Steve a small smile, though not out of anything so foolish as hope. Men were going to have to die for their escape to be successful. There was nothing to hope about. They needed to trust in their skills and endurance to survive.]

I feel like the Hulk has been shaking me ceaselessly for days.

[Loki lowered his hands into his lap, his gaze moving briefly to the hand on his arm before wandering away again.]

I know they're working on experiments. Taking my blood, pumping me full of drugs. They still believe me to be Asgardian like Thor, and I don't intend to alter that perception. [He kept his voice low, not wanting his words to be picked up by any monitoring system.]

[ Honestly, Steve would have rolled his eyes at the comment but he had to let out a soft snort. It was really stupid, but it was nice to know that even in all of this, Loki was still himself. He was still inappropriate and just as amusing, and if they were somewhere else, Steve would have taken the opportunity to point out how bad that was.

At least Loki was smiling and Steve had to return it. But when Loki mentioned how he felt, his face fell and his hand moved to hold Loki's own.

He listened to Loki's explanation and tried not to grip his hand tighter. It was all obvious with how he looked, why hadn't Steve noticed earlier? Why hadn't he tried to escape before? Probably because he knew this would happen.]

Do you know what they're looking for? [He kept his voice just as low as he watched the outside for any movements or signs that the guards might return.] They're not trying to make another super soldier, are they?

[Normally Loki might have scoffed at holding hands, but this was a bit different. He took the gesture as one of support, and support was something he could really use right then. They had both been separated from one another and all of their friends for so long that he wouldn't turn away any physical contact that was offered.]

It's possible.

[Though the fact was that Hydra did a good job of keeping him in the dark about the experiments. They took what they needed and did what they wanted without uttering a word to him even when he tried to pry in the most unassuming way he could.]

I'm the first alien they've gotten their hands on. I'm sure it must be very exciting.

[And the scientists did seem excited to run tests on him. Sometimes Midgardians really did come off as backwards when they behaved in such a way. On Asgard nobody blinked more than twice when they saw a being that was from somewhere far away.]

[Whether it not Loki liked it, Steve would have he'd his hand regardless. He enjoyed his affection and in times like these it was something he sought out. ]

You'd think they'd be more excited to have a super soldier in their hands. But I guess you're pretty impressive.

[Actually that was probably even more worrying. If they had no use for Loki as far as missions went, what was the possibility that they would conduct experiments on the both of them? They obviously washed to find something of use with Loki's blood, but the only way to decode the super soldier serum was in his. With the two of them in HYDRA's hands, anything was possible.

Despite this revelation, Steve did his best to smile. ]

We'll find a way out. [It's more of a reassurance for himself than anything. He gives Loki's hand a light squeeze.] I won't let them take you again.

You're still alive. Don't consider yourself off their radar just yet.

[When he was out on missions it might seem sensible that they'd keep Steve alive and unharmed to ensure his cooperation. But now that he wasn't, why not experiment on both of them?]

Yes. [He nodded slightly in agreement, returning the squeeze almost imperceptibly.] It would be simple if we could find a way to remove these cuffs.

[But Loki wasn't above using his hands as a weapon if he had to, even bound. He could still likely take out several soldiers that way alone, though he worried they would eventually overpower him and inject him with more chemicals that made him feel ever weaker and sicker. No, a better plan was needed.]

I wish I knew where they kept them.

[Loki had a point that Steve wasn't off their radar. If it came to that, then. Well, they'd find a way to fight back. There was no way that Steve was going to let Loki get taken away again. And if that came at the expense of his own life... well, then he'd be willing to do that.

Not that he'd tell Loki.

He looked at the cuffs. They seemed to be a solid metal, but other than that, what was it that made them so powerful? Obviously Loki couldn't take them off with magic or his own brute force (or he was too weak to do so). ]

I can try taking them off. [He shifted and then winced as his shoulder was moved. It was already starting to heal a little bit, but it still hurt like hell.] I-In just a minute.

[He sighed while stealing a brief, worried glance at Steve's shoulder. If trouble came immediately he wouldn't be able to do much in that state. They needed some time to recover and plan, though the very fact that they were allowed any time at all made him wonder what their captors were planning.

Nothing good. That was obvious enough.]

Don't bother. Even when I was at full strength I had no luck.

[He didn't know precisely what the shackles were made of, but it was enough to keep him in check. They must have learned what to do through the scepter, it was the only explanation.]

We either need to wait for them to remove them or discover a key on our own.

[ Steve let out a sigh of frustration when Loki spoke. Breaking it was apparently impossible and finding a key wouldn't be easy, either. With his shoulder injured, he couldn't even look at it properly without moving. All they could do was wait, either for Steve's injury to heal itself or for the guards to come back. Either way, it was a waste of time.

He leaned a little more heavily against the other man and closed his eyes. The exhaustion his failed escape plan was finally catching up to him. ]

We can try waiting it out. But until then we're a pair of sitting ducks.

[Which wasn't an ideal plan but it was the only plan he could think of right now considering the circumstances. His thumb moved against Loki's hand, rubbing small circles.]

Edited 2015-06-13 22:50 (UTC)

[ Literally in hell ]

ʙᴏᴛʜ ɪɴ ʜᴇʟʟ

Gabriel | Constantine | ota

Dorian Gray | Penny Dreadful | ota

Karen Page | Daredevil OTA

remus lupin | harry potter

Castiel | Supernatural | OTA

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Yay!

Perfect!

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Wow, you can tell I was half asleep when I wrote that last tag

psh! Not a problem. :)

And HTML fail in my last tag. I promise I'll be sensible some day.

No one else is, why should you be?

Ah, there's the catch - I never said what day!

fair enough! ;)

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