Aftermath

[forthedog]

He's tired when he finally gets home.

It makes sense; it is, in every sense of the term, the small hours, and his arm and shoulder are also aching and weary from dealing out so many heavy blows, but it's more than that. What he's seen and done tonight was draining and in a way that he didn't entirely expect.

Though he should have, probably. Part of him was let out, almost off the leash. Wrestling with it, keeping it in check at the same time that he was making use of it... It's taken a lot.

He's also floating on his own adrenaline. His own endorphins, even just sympathetic in nature. His own dark pleasure, a kind that has simultaneously nothing and everything to do with sex.

He unlocks the door and steps inside, shutting it silently after him and moving equally silently through the dim apartment toward the bedroom. All he wants to do is sleep through the rest of the week.

And he hopes Dean feels the same, now. Finally.

Comments

[likeaplanet]

"He's kinda worth helping," I murmur, my lips grazing across his brow. Cas talks about him like he's some kind of fucking saint. A pure, bright soul in the middle of all this darkness. As frustrating as all all Cas' shit is, his single-mindedness and refusal to even take half the effort he puts into looking after Dean and use it to look after himself, I've never really been able to really argue with him about any of it.

I know what kind of man Dean Winchester is. Dean's the only one that doesn't seem to get it.

[forthedog]

"No kidding." He can feel himself settling. The adrenaline is bleeding away, and he thinks he really might be able to snatch a few hours of sleep after all.

"Maybe someday he'll even buy it."

[likeaplanet]

"Yeah, good fuckin' luck gettin' that to happen," I snort softly, my fingers still moving idly through his hair.

"I love you, you know."

[forthedog]

"Yeah, I know." He shifts slightly under Neil's stroking fingers, nuzzling sleepily at his jaw. "I love you too. A... stupid, crazy amount."

[likeaplanet]

"Whatever. I'm fuckin' loveable," I mutter, grinning lazily against his cheek. Burrowing deeper under the covers, our legs impossibly tangled, I murmur, "Come on, man. Get some sleep."

[forthedog]

"Working on it." But he doesn't think he'll have to work especially hard. He's warm, safe, there are no monsters here. Maybe, wherever he is, Dean feels this way too.

He can almost believe it.