#loyaltysword

                                WHEN YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR, it isn't hard to tell if you're facing the vessel or the archangel. It's in the eyes and the way they hold their bodies, although after 10 years (or more than 1,000 in hell time), Castiel supposes Michael got used to the confining space of a meatsuit. Castiel certainly did, to a degree. Anyway, he's reasonably sure he's looking at Adam, so he pulls out seven different jars of peanut butter and neatly places them in a row on the table. "Adam," he says, sounding very serious. "It has come to my attention that you like peanut butter. I need help to create the perfect PB&J sandwich. But there are too many options at the store. It is very daunting."

The words spark something resembling guilt, but it’s rough-edged and swimming in a certain unsteady uncertainty, and he just — doesn’t make eye contact, instead busies himself with scuffing a boot against the floor, moving a rug, checking up and down for devil’s traps. It’s reflex. Also avoidance. ❝ Yes, well. There are such things as phones. And texts. Emails, even. ❞ That, if sent, he’s been avoiding. Ahem. He recognizes this, even; clears his throat, rough and uneven. ❝ Hm. Then don’t tell me: there’s some great calamity somewhere. End of the bloody world. Again. I’m fresh out of world-saving tricks, used the last ace up my sleeve. ❞

                            HE KNOWS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO NOT SLEEP WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS. It wasn't so bad when his wings were in perfect condition and he could just pop in on people celebrating Diwali in India while the whole American continent lay in slumber. Now, he only gets so far. "Do you know about Netflix?" he asks in a serious voice. "It's an excellent distraction during the night. You can do something called binge-watching, and nobody will get mad at you because they're all asleep while you're doing it."

The little grin is almost immediate. " Most certainly. " The smile lingers: " Now. I suppose the better question is, " and brows raise, just marginally, " do you want whipped cream along with those? "

" The ever-present burn in our ribcage isn't enough to tip you off? " He's teasing, at least partly -- more often than not, he is more than content to swirl around the human's soul, wind around it as tightly as he can. " You're existing. I'm existing. We're sharing the body. I'm content. "

" If I threw my heart and made a pass... would your hands reach out when I said catch? " He feels, he feels this so deeply, and it's terrifying and fascinating all in the same note. His expression betrays nothing, and his hands fall to fold in their lap; he can have the patience of a saint, after all.

" For fuck's sake, just drink strawberry juice. "

ALWAYS MORE THINGS dont you fucking look at my draft count ALWAYS MORE THINGS