#caffinatedrp

Partner’s reply:

https://www.rpthreadtracker.com/public/theirturn?userId=33743¤tBlog=&sortDescending=false¤tOrderBy=LastPostDate&filteredTag=

My reply:

https://www.rpthreadtracker.com/public/yourturn?userId=33743¤tBlog=&sortDescending=false¤tOrderBy=LastPostDate&filteredTag=

Cas’s eyes flickered between his brother and the now nonexistent threat (now in the form of smoke that was rapidly dispersing into the air around them) that had managed to slip up behind him without his notice. “Apparently so.” He said, voice even and nonchalant despite the fact he had almost been struck down had not Lucifer intervened. After being resurrected more than once, the shock factor of death seemed to lose its impact.

Cas stared through the store window, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he observed the display inside. The abundance of bright pinks and reds was almost difficult to look at, which Cas felt drew away from the expensive jewelry being advertised. It was still odd to him to see the commercialization of St. Valentine’s work. The saint had married people in secret, so how had a celebration in his memory turned to such an abrasive and over the top event, complete with mass-produced stuffed animals and confections, as well as cut flowers which withered and died mere weeks later, forgotten and unwanted after the festivities. That, and Dean’s version of Valentine’s Day, which didn’t include love at all, only easy sex. 

“Not currently. They are too damaged from the fall.” Cas admitted, looking back at his manifested wings. It had been a witch hunt, Cas had been hit with a stray spell, and now he was stuck with the appendages on this plain of existence, which was rather cumbersome. Not only because they were still severely damaged and that being on this plane of existence was rather uncomfortable, they were huge, they were a mess, and they kept getting in the way. But Cas could manage, at least until they could find a way to restore his wings to where they belonged. 

He looked back at Dean, shifting his wings, frowning as they scraped against the walls of the motel they were staying in. He could keep a cool head and hide his discomfort from the Winchesters, and answer their questions, but looking at the state his wings were in was heartbreaking. It was not something he wanted to see, let alone have his friends see. It was difficult to have his biggest weakness on display in front of the hunters.

Looking over at Gabe, Cas groaned. Ever since his brother was back, he had been surprisingly nosy about whatever the younger angel was doing on a daily basis. He rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow at the questioning. “Sam’s fine. He and Dean went on their pilgrimage to Vegas this week. So I’m tending to the bunker.”