#writingtag

A faint smile rose to Theo’s face as he hovered closer to a personal favorite of his. Several long stalks sat in a plain glass vase, each bursting at their peaks into concentrated puffs of small flowers with curved, pointed petals. To the best of his ability, he cupped one of the blossoms in his hands, though he only felt the faintest coolness of resistance as his palms phased through the corporeal object. At his diminutive size, just one of the small blossoms seemed about as big as he was. And though he lacked the lungs to inhale or the senses to smell, he mimicked the motion anyways. It was an act of hollow nostalgia for memories he didn’t possess, though it was nice to believe that he had done this in the life he must have once lived.

Recalling the names and attributes of all the floral species was difficult – especially when Pazu refused to share that information, as he seemed to interpret any pondering question from the ghost as some insurmountable burden not worthy of his precious time. But he recalled this one, as it was one that Pazu had finally relented to talking about after a long bout of nagging insistence: the hyacinth. Such a lovely name for such a lovely flower, he’d thought. And the dusty violet hue of this particular bloom was simply ethereal, though Theo sheepishly recognized that this could have been the effects of a personal bias, as he seemed to take on a spectrum of blues and purples within his own wispy form. He’d made his affections for the flower known at one point, to which he was met with a scoff and an, “I don’t see why. The scent gives me migraines, and the clusters are an eyesore.” Yet they remained a repeating staple in Pazu’s florism hobby, so perhaps he’d simply felt contrarian at the time. 

As if on cue, Theo could hear the soft clunking of keys fidgeting with the main entrance, the swift opening swing of the dormitory door, and the even swifter slam that followed. The little wisp shot back from the object of his admiration rapidly, all too aware that Pazu would kill him (well, in a manner of speaking) if he was caught touching anything of value to the human. He’d expected to see the raven-haired man appear around the corner at any second, possibly with a narrowed, scrutinous gaze, already suspecting Theo of messing with his personal projects. Or perhaps with a mischievous smirk, all too eager to delve into yet another and all too hands-on “exorcism experiment.” Neither appeared. Nothing appeared. Come to think of it, had there even been any sounds at all since the calamitous abuse of the dormitory door? There certainly hadn’t been any footsteps, so perhaps Pazu had…opened the door, realized he’d forgotten something, and then left again?

Just as this reasoning began sounding like a solid theory in the ghost’s mind, a quiet noise from the small entryway caught his attention. From his current angle, it was beyond his line of sight, but it had sounded like…breathing? Or, maybe choking? Concern spiked within the little apparition’s spectral heart, prompting him to approach the wall corner that obstructed his view of the door.

“Er…Pazu? Is that you?” Theo called softly, words heavied by trepidation. In lieu of a verbal response, there were more of those muffled little noises, more noticeable now with the closer proximity, and increasing in sporadic frequency. This did little to assuage the specter’s worries, so he resolved to quicken his advance toward the entryway until he breached the border of his obstruction. He tried again, “Pazu?”

Well, it was certainly Pazu. Theo would be lying if he said he hadn’t, for a moment, thought that perhaps an intruder had broken in. But beyond recognizing the figure hunched against the back of the door, his understanding of the situation ended there. Opting for black clothes as he so often did, and with a fluffy tangle of short jet waves, Pazu’s crouched form resembled some sort of shambling shadow of a puddle, as he seemed to have taken up residence in a corner of the floor. Two bony hands clenched fiercely against his head — one grasping at the hair above his temple, the other clawing against the flesh of his face — and the only eye visible from within the dark mess of shadows and limbs and hair was blown wide, staring feverishly, unblinkingly, downwards into nothing. 

Then Theo realized what the sounds he’d heard before were. ‘Breathing’ might not have been the proper term; they were more so airy spasms than they were proper breaths, wet and wheezing and incomplete. They wracked Pazu’s entire bundled frame, which, for the first time, appeared awfully small to the stunned ghost floating above. 

For a long moment, Theo was stunned into silence. In the weeks (Months? His concept of time had eroded long ago) that he’d known Pazu, he’d known a collected, calculated, and confident force of better-than-you bitterness. And, sure, maybe he was prone to the occasional fits of awkwardness or a childish tantrum, but certainly not…this. It would have almost seemed dream-like in its absurdity, if only ghosts could dream. Thus, Theo forced himself to accept this disquieting sight as reality, pushed his apprehension as far down as it would go, and wafted cautiously into the entryway. 

“Pazu! What- what happened to you?” Theo fretted, lowering himself to be within the trembling figure’s field of view. There was no reaction or intelligible response from the other, though it did seem for a moment as though Pazu had been attempting to quietly sound out words between fits of hyperventilation. His knees were tucked all the way up to his nose, subduing the already voiceless whimpers and blocking any attempt Theo could make at reading lips, but he swore he could make out a strained:

“Do… Doh… Don’t… Don’t…”

The worry on Theo’s features deepened as he began to wave an arm around, attempting again to catch the human’s attention. “Hey, come on! This isn’t like you, just…calm down and tell me what happened, okay?”

Still nothing. It had become a habit of Theo’s to hover just out of arm’s reach from Pazu, given the other’s tendency to pluck him out of the air and reduce his existence to a stress toy whenever he got bored. Now wasn’t the time to be wary of such impulses, though. The wisp inched closer, lacing his fingers together nervously as he approached the despondent giant.

“Did something happen?” he chanced the gentle query, only to be met with more formless whispers that remained void of any recognition.

Theo swallowed, then tried again.

“Did someone…hurt you?”

As if shocked back into reality, Pazu’s form went rigid and his visible eye shifted into alarmed focus, pinning itself on Theo in an instant. The ghost tensed reflexively, but no hand darted out to grab him this time. Instead, the noirette’s face scrunched into a vitriolic grimace at the sight of the other, before burying itself completely into a cradle of folded arms and tucked knees. 

“Go away,” was all he muttered, but the bite of his words was choked away by a tightness in his throat, giving his voice an uneven half-spoken-half-whispered quality. Theo faltered, but didn’t comply with the command. Certainly, Pazu’s flaws were innumerable — and often intolerable — but goodness, Theo didn’t hate him. Leaving him in this state simply wasn’t an option, nor something he considered even briefly. Pazu’s hiccuping gasps still rattled the entirety of his thin frame, and despite him obscuring his face, his frantic partial sobs were still audible. Though this side of his personal tormentor was unfamiliar and confounding to him, Theo had already decided that this wasn’t something he could turn away from.

The little ghost steeled his resolve and pressed further. “I- I’m sorry. I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now. I mean, another human would probably be, ehm, better equipped to handle something like this, right? But I—“

“Go. Away,” Pazu repeated, louder, sharper, through gritted teeth. It appeared as though forcing out the warning took a great deal of strength from the hunched man, as his tremors intensified immediately after. Like a performer who’d been balancing on stilts for a terribly long time and, after straining to maintain a proper posture for so long, now teetered and trembled in a desperate attempt to keep from tumbling to the ground. “Just piss off. I don’t care where. Leave me alone and quit being a pest.”

Theo’s brows creased at the stinging words, but they did little to dissuade him. He reconsidered his approach for a moment. Right, less rambling this time. Straight to the point. 

“I don’t want to leave you here,” his small voice affirmed decisively. The hiss of a sharp inhale came from the shambling mass of shadows, knuckles paling as he clawed harder at his scalp. Theo was close to him now, just inches from the twitching forearm that clamped his body tightly together. He reached a translucent hand outwards, unsure if the touch would soothe his living companion at all, but determined to try. Shifting to a gentler tone, Theo continued, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, and maybe a dull little ghost like me won’t be able to understand it. But if you try opening up about it, well…maybe I could help in some way! If you just tell me what happened–”

And that’s when the clamp came undone, limbs unfurling explosively and swinging outward. Whether or not Pazu actually meant to strike Theo was debatable, but he had regardless, and with no small amount of force. 

“Nothing happened!” he roared in a cracking retort, “Is that what you want to hear? Will that make you leave me the fuck alone?! Nothing! Literally, in every sense of the word, nothing happened!”

It took the dazed ghost several moments to reorient himself; he’d tumbled backwards through the air with a yelp once Pazu had swatted at him, colliding with the nearby wall at a momentum that was too great for him to pass through it. He hovered limply as he bade the world around him to stop spinning and shook his head in hopes of rattling his senses back into place. They did, eventually, and Theo was able to properly see the entirely foreign expression on the human’s face clearly now. His bloodshot eyes were wide and aimless, glistening with the remnants of tears that were now smudged in every direction across his cheeks. His jaw clenched into a trembling snarl, as if the words he’d spat were so unpalatable to him that they’d made his bile rise, and reddish streaks and indents burned angrily against the dark skin that he’d evidently been gripping rather fiercely. 

“It was only a noise! Some vibrations in the air as someone dropped a— something, I don’t know! And that’s all it took for my stupid brain to produce some stupid chemical and activate some stupid instinct, and now I— I’m…!” His eyes welled up as the words died in his throat, and he gagged against them, before puling, “It’s all so stupid! It’s all nothing!”

“H-hey, woah! Whatever you’re feeling clearly isn’t ’nothing,’ Pazu!” Theo redoubled his efforts to reason with the student, already closing the distance that Pazu had created, “It’s okay to…to feel things, you know? I’m sure it doesn’t feel okay right this second, but if you’re sad, or angry, or scared, then—“

“Would you FUCK OFF already?!” Pazu shrieked the interruption as his hand scrabbled for whatever was closest to him — in this case, the phone that had tumbled out of his pocket — and in the same motion, hurled it with terrifying accuracy at the tiny specter. The projectile phased through his airy form (Thank the heavens, Theo prayed inwardly), but he flinched at the attack all the same, cringing doubly as he heard it smash against something delicate in its collision. He chanced a brief glance behind him to survey the damage, allowing a crestfallen breath to escape him at the sight of broken glass, a growing puddle, and a tangle of stems and damaged petals on the ground. For all the disdain Pazu seemed to harness regularly for just about anything and everything good in the world, his flowers maintained the privilege of being the only things he showed excessive care and tenderness for. Yet the calamitous shatter seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed it. 

“Spouting all this asinine therapy-speak like you even care. Hah…ahah! I know you hate me!” Pazu’s voice had taken on a quavering mania as he chattered between rapid, uneven breaths, “And why wouldn’t you, right? Dug this grave my own damn self, right? Bet you enjoy seeing me writhe like some pathetic little insect, right?!”

“Pazu—!!”

“Everyone hates me, and everyone should. Hah, it’s— it’s so much better this way. The only reason anyone wants me around is to use me, but oh, oops! Turns out they can’t be bothered to put up with the ‘me’ they’re using. And you’re just like them, you know? U-using me just because I’m the only one you CAN use. Hah! It’s funny, isn’t it? A damn comedy! I genuinely can’t tell which of us got the worse deal out of all this, and you’re dead!”

His shoulders shuddered then, a sob at first. But when they persisted along with arhythmic puffs and wheezes, Theo realized that he had begun a strained, hybrid process of something between laughing and crying. 

“And that’s the fucked up thing!” Pazu continued, voice fraught with a manic desperation, “I think about it sometimes. How much I envy you. How much simpler it would all be if I were dead. No need to try and play the same stupid, useless game as everyone else. None of those horrible, pesky memories to bog you down. Nothing to tie you to any responsibilities. Just…floating, free and alone.”

He sniffled then, an ugly sound. “World’d probably be better off if I were a ghost instead. Not like anyone actually wants me around.”

There was a heavy pause. Theo’s hands clenched unsurely, measuring his next words with considerable trepidation, and Pazu kept his gaze lowered and obscured.

“…Pazu—“

“Shut up. I’m not actually about to kill myself.”

“What? No, I wasn’t— I mean, that’s good, of course! But…” he dared to inch closer then, drifting forward while the other consciously averted his gaze. The spirit sighed, abandoning his jumbled words and starting again, “Look, I know you’re not particularly keen on taking my advice. And it’s not that I can blame you — I, ah, don’t exactly have lived experience to draw back on — but regardless. Please at least listen when I say this.”

“Once you’re dead, that’s all there is. You’ve no future, no potential for change. Being a ghost isn’t some sort of grand ‘round two’ where you get to try everything over again, Pazu. It’s…perpetuity. Stagnation. Regret you can never, ever act on. But– but being alive!” Theo’s face lit up in a weary smile, as if suddenly realizing his somber tone may be resulting in the opposite of his intended effect, “Being alive means always having the opportunity to strive for something better. To change, and to grow!”

“And look, I can’t possibly know what you’re going through right now, or understand what you…might have been through before…a-and it’s not my intention to pry. But as long as you’re alive, you’ll always have the promise of waking up to a brand new day. Ah…this all probably doesn’t mean much coming from a dead guy, huh?” he added with a sheepish chuckle, “I guess I just…I want you to know that I’m here. And I may not say the right things, but you can always talk to me if something is troubling you, okay?”

Pazu huffed, lifting his reddened gaze again with an almost insulted incredulity. “‘Always?’ Don’t patronize me. The only reason you’re still with me is to ultimately get away from me. I’m not an idiot. I don’t need your conditional altruism.”

Theo smiled sadly. That wasn’t something he could deny, and they both knew it. “That…is the arrangement, yes,” he spoke slowly, measuring his words with great care, “I’m not supposed to exist as I am now in the first place, and I get the feeling I shouldn’t stay. But today — right here, right now — I am here. And if you only focus on a future you’ve already decided is empty, you’ll never realize what’s here with you in your ‘now.’ You’re not alone, Pazu.”

He drifted closer, trying again to reach out a small, wispy hand. “You don’t have to be alone.”

“Touch me and I swear I’ll find a way to kill you a second time.”

The threat felt tired, and lacked any real bite. 

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

Theo rested his palms softly against the other’s face. Despite his verbal reluctance, Pazu didn’t stop him. It was strange, the wisp thought; every other corporeal object felt like near nothing. Tangible static, at most. Maybe it was due to the mysterious paranormal abilities the human possessed, but Theo could actually feel him at the touch. He was warm — a rather foreign sensation to the lifeless wisp at this point— and though it seemed that he’d regained most of his senses, Theo could feel the aftershocks of a full-body tremble beneath his palms every so often. 

Admittedly, the disparity in size and power between the two had made Pazu out to be some omnipotent giant in Theo’s mind. This entire time, he had merely been subjected to the whim of hands larger than the entirety of his spectral form, and any attempts at reasoning with him were either sneered at or flat-out ignored. In this moment of vulnerability, though, any trace of that looming threat seemed wholly nullified. For the first time in Theo’s existence, Pazu was just a normal human.

It was a strange thing, trying to cradle the face of someone a hundred times larger than oneself. The best Theo could manage was resting his hands against either side of the bridge of Pazu’s nose, tracing calm circles occasionally, and even daring to touch his own forehead to the other’s. He could feel a piercing glare affixed to him — bloodshot, glistening, and swirling with emotions Theo couldn’t understand — but he elected to ignore this, closing his own eyes instead and focusing on his efforts to subdue his volatile counterpart. 

“I’ll leave when the time is right, Pazu. But for now, I’m here with you. And regardless of what you believe my motives are or how you think I regard you, I don’t want to see you hurting. You don’t deserve this,” he soothed. Pazu clenched his jaw, but didn’t respond. “You’ll get through this. I know you can. Just take some deep breaths and try to relax yourself, okay?”

There was a prolonged pause — perhaps an inward battle as Pazu debated how petulant he was willing to be in that exact moment — before he eventually relented and reluctantly followed the specter’s instructions. He breathed against his palm, still clasping at his face, and continued until ragged gasps eased into slow, tired puffs. His shoulders dropped slowly as Theo continued to calm him, and a sobered exhaustion eventually replaced the manic vitriol in his features.

It was quiet. It was over. And neither seemed to know what happened next. 

It was after several moments of this peaceful uncertainty that Theo could hear the rustling of movement, and could subsequently feel a warmth against his back, delicate at first. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Pazu had raised a hand to pinch Theo’s frame between his forefinger and thumb, and at first, the ghost was foolish enough to believe it might have been the larger’s approximation of a hug. But then the grip tightened and applied forward pressure, eliciting an undignified squeak from the ghost as he’d suddenly been reduced to little more than a spectral rag. Pazu dragged him along as one would a tissue, swiping away the moisture from his face with little care for the other’s panicked wriggling, before eventually dismissing him with a flick of his wrist and a disinterested, “Get off of me.”

It took Theo a great deal of weightless tumbling and wobbling to find his footing (so to speak) after being tossed aside, the unexpected ordeal disorienting him thoroughly. Pazu began rising to his feet as the ghost was left shaking the wet residue from his limbs, frowning at its unwillingness to piece apart from his body. 

“Ugh— Pazu, really! You couldn’t have used your sleeve, or – I don’t know – anything that wasn’t me?! Do you realize how hard it is to clean yourself off when water phases right through your—“

“God, shut up already. My head is killing me,” Pazu grumbled, sounding much more like his usual self already, albeit somewhat exhausted. He had strode to the scene of broken glass and scattered flowers, narrowing his eyes and huffing a sigh as he collected his impromptu projectile. He turned the phone over in his hands a few times, seemingly checking for notable damage. Based on his lack of reaction to the object, Theo assumed that it had, at least, come out of the tantrum relatively unscathed. 

“Somehow, you’re so annoying that it’s legitimately sobering. I’m almost impressed.”

“Oh? Oh!” Theo’s face lit up as he considered the remark, his previous gripe dissipating as even the bluish glow of his form seemed to intensify with his delight, “Thank you!”

“That—“ Pazu spun around with an expression of blank bewilderment. “That wasn’t a compliment, you freak.”

——————

The dormitory door clattered open noisily as its resident shouldered past it, staggering slightly as he hauled a hefty-looking plastic bucket into the living space and snickering to himself all the while. The glowing speck trailing him — perceptible to his eyes only — appeared much less amused, striking a deep frown and fretting his hands in jittery, nervous motions. 

“Pazu!” the ghost chastised in a quavering tone, “You mustn’t speak to others that way — especially when they’re your peers, and doubly so when they manage your living situation! You should go back and apologize to that young man right away!”

Pazu snorted, kicking the door behind him closed with a haphazard, unbalanced motion. “Oh, please. The RA can’t actually do anything to me. He just likes going on power trips and yelling at anything that moves.”

“But you didn’t have to bring his mother into it!”

He shrugged, flashing a toothy, self-congratulatory grin. “Well, he’s the one who overreacted over a tiny bit of spilt water in the hallway. I don’t escalate, Teddy; I just give what I get.”

Theo groaned, throwing a worried glance to the door again, as if the dormitory RA would come bursting through with an eviction notice at any moment. It wasn’t as though he personally needed a roof over his head, but Pazu losing his home would surely cause even further delays to his research in exorcism, a process that already seemed to be taking quite some time. And for goodness sake, Theo did care about the boy. Not that Pazu ever made it easy to do so.

A ruckus from within the dormitory drew the wisp’s attention back to his living counterpart. The bucket — apparently a special order Pazu had placed with the wholesaler that he normally sourced his flowers from — had sloshed more puddles onto the floor as a struggle to lift it onto the table ensued. Thank goodness the delicate blossoms had been covered by a thin, opaque tarp cinched gently around the stems, Theo marveled, as he was certain that half of their petals would have been knocked clean off by now. The obscured flowers did leave him to wonder what plans Pazu had that required buying a single variant in such bulk, as he tended to source from a variety of species with a preference for more petite arrangements. It was nice to see him like this again, though; since the other day’s bizarre outburst, Pazu had seemed quieter than usual, and at times it even felt as if he was outright avoiding Theo. Though the recent vulgarity and mischief wasn’t exactly soothing, the familiarity of his old personality was comforting, and witnessing the resurfacing of the passion he held for his flowers eased Theo’s anxieties in some small way.

In the time it took for the tiny specter to drift across the room to the table, Pazu had finally managed to settle his haul on its surface, his lanky frame deflating slightly from the effort.

“So…what did you end up getting this time?” Theo queried, assuming his typical position of hovering just above the noirette’s shoulder. He’d been staring down at the covered bundle of flora, but after a gap of silence with no response, he turned to glance at the face beside him, only to realize he was being stared at. Pazu’s visible eye was widened, yet blank, and just as Theo had begun to wonder if he’d somehow said something to upset him, he cleared his throat. 

“It’s…not really any of your business. I don’t even particularly like this one, so I don’t even know why I’m bothering with it— I mean, maybe you’ll like it, since you have terrible taste and all. Not that I got them for you, obviously,” Pazu stammered in a way that was very unlike him. He picked at the twist tie securing the protective tarp slowly, his thin fingers rigid and clumsy as if stricken with sudden stage fright, then clicked his tongue and muttered, “Ugh, why’d you have to draw attention to it? This would’ve been easier if you weren’t so nosy—“

Both the living and dead occupants of the dorm flinched in shock at a sudden banging at the door. The muffled voice of the RA carried through the barrier, prattling on sternly about needing to speak to Pazu immediately and how “this was the last time” and other such heated threats. The subject of the summons gave a mildly frustrated huff, whereas Theo launched himself into a full-blown panic.

“See?! I told you to apologize! Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself evicted!” the spirit caterwauled, eliciting an exasperated roll of the eyes from the giant beside him. 

“Cool it, Tedster. He said it was the last time last time, and I had him crying three minutes into our little chat,” Pazu muttered. A wicked smirk snaked its way across his face as he added in a hushed, sing-song snicker, “Bet’cha I can get it down to two.”

He yanked the plastic sheet away from the bucket as he walked towards the entrance, crumpling it into a messy bundle and tossing it haphazardly into a corner, presumably to be dealt with later. Theo began to drift after him, already dreading the idea that he’d likely end up as Pazu’s makeshift fidget toy again (he tended to meet this fate any time Pazu needed to deal with what he deemed to be an aggravating situation, which was…admittedly, quite often), but he was halted by the dismissive wave of a hand. 

“Stay here. I can only handle a single goody-two-shoes talking my ear off about ‘responsibility’ and ‘morality’ at a time.” There was a high-pitched lilt to the words he emphasized, and Theo was certain that it was an attempt at mocking his own lectures. He would have been keen to point out that he, in fact, sounded nothing like that, but kept his mouth shut. As Pazu neared the door, he made a low noise as if he’d just recalled something, then turned and pointed an accusatory finger at his undead captive. “And don’t touch my flowers. I swear to God, if I come back and see you getting your gross dead-ness on them again, I’ll—“

“You’ll find a way to kill me a second time. Yes, I recall,” Theo finished the threat, almost dutifully. He hadn’t meant it as a means of back talk, but upon realizing it may have come across as such to Pazu (and reminding himself for the umpteenth time to think before he speaks, damn it!), he stiffened, bracing for an icy glare that promised later punishment. But the student’s expression was surprisingly blank, lacking even the faintest trace of hostility. He blinked, glancing at the bundle on the table, then back to Theo.

“Um…right,” he replied, then simply, “Thanks.”

And this was what utterly confounded Theo beyond anything else he’d seen as of late. It seemed an odd response to their banter, and completely out of character for the normally cold-hearted recluse. Come to think of it, had Pazu ever thanked him for…well, anything? Why now?

The door gap in the doorway narrowed in Pazu’s absence, and the beginnings of a royal chewing out could be heard (Theo could just barely make out a “You know I can hear you talking to yourself, right?”). Though as it finally clicked shut and the spirit was left in silence, it dawned on him that he’d never gotten a good look at the flowers beneath the now discarded tarp. Madly curious as to what could have possibly sparked such odd behaviors in his living counterpart, Theo turned his attention back to the table. And then he understood. A beaming smile rose to his face, and the spectral aura around his form glowed a bit brighter.

Cas has forgotten his phone on a case approximately eleven times. Apparently Dean has never told this to Sam. Suddenly, leaving his phone behind so much seems less embarrassing and more of a wonderful secret that he and Dean share. He looks at Dean, but his face is steady and he’s still facing Sam. 

“And you just didn’t tell him you locked him out of his own phone?”

“I literally set it an hour ago,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think he’d notice!”

It’s possible Sam doesn’t know about Dean and Cas’ routine of sitting together and eating breakfast, Dean scrolling his phone for cases and Cas scrolling through wedding inspiration on Pinterest, but that seems impossible, for this time is as holy as church. He squints at Sam. 

“So what is the password?” he asks. 

“I just made it 123456,” Sam says, raising his hands defensively. “But you should change it to something else.” 

Dean rounds on Cas, eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t guess that?”

“How would I know to guess that?” He had mainly guessed things like 888888 or 333333. 

“Ugh,” Dean says, dropping his fork onto his eggs. “Ok, Steve Jobs, put in your new password and I’ll help you get set up.”

Cas enters the password. Sam rattles around in the pantry. Dean leans across the table. Cas tilts his phone toward him. 

“Go to Settings,” Dean instructs, pointing at the gray gears in the top corner of Cas’ phone screen. Cas taps it and follows Dean’s directions into the “passcode” section. He has to enter Sam’s absurd password one more time to change it.

“What should I change it to?” he asks. 

“I dunno,” Dean says. “A lot of people use a date or something.”

“Is yours?” Cas knows Dean’s password, of course, but he thought it was a random string of numbers that had come with his phone. Why he thought his phone didn’t come with one while Dean’s did he doesn’t know, but it was easier without a password and so it never bothered him. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. Cas tilts his head. 

“Why October 22, ‘69?” he asks. Dean grins. Sam groans. To be honest, Cas had forgotten Sam was even in the room.

“Led Zeppelin II’s release date,” Dean says. “The day ‘Ramble On’ came into the world. Best day ever.”

Cas develops a new appreciation for October 22, if not just because Dean likes it. 

“Plus I wanted to put 69 in my password,” Dean says, winking outrageously. Sam pretends to vomit. “Sammy over there likes to rotate his password out,” Dean says. He rolls his eyes. “Always between sappy shit like my birthday and Dad’s birthday and Mom’s birthday.”

“Whatever,” Sam says. “Normal people use birthdays or anniversaries, Dean. You’re the freak here.”

“Sounds like something a little bitch would say,” Dean says, winking at Cas. Cas looks down at his phone, hiding a little smile. 

“Jerk,” Sam says, and then he turns on the blender. 

Cas should use a birthday, he supposes. But he does not have one of his own to use. He wants to make it Dean’s birthday. He glances up at Dean, who is jokingly exchanging nasty expressions with Sam. He imagines one of those expressions turned onto him, and looks back at his phone. Perhaps 012479 would be too revealing. He looks at Dean again, and then types in a number. 

Sam turns off the blender and Dean turns back to Cas. 

“So?” he says. “Think of something?”

”Yes,” Cas says. “091808.” He likes those numbers in his mouth. 

“What’s that?” Sam says. 

“Just a random number,” Cas says. For some reason, he doesn’t want Sam to know.

”I guess you met us in ‘08,” Sam muses. 

“I suppose,” Cas says. He looks at Dean. His beautiful face is kind of frozen, cheeks dusted with red. Their eyes meet. Dean’s flush deepens. Cas stares at him. 

Somewhere behind them, Sam bottles his smoothie and leaves the kitchen, muttering about research. Cas doesn’t look away from Dean. 

Impeded only by the heady moans, pathetic gasps and friction against her back as Sydney grinds into Dee's ass. Greedy for the stimulation it provides. Lost in the pleasure of her frantic humping.

.

.

When Dee met Sydney for the first time she hadn’t been particularly interested in the girl.

Had felt a somewhat lukewarm, detached sort of neutrality towards her. 

Only a step above most other people, in her mind, because Sydney was polite, nice enough to talk to (despite the religious bullshit) and didn’t grope or assault her. As everyone else in this shithole of a town liked to do.

Unfortunately those feelings of neutrality were quickly replaced with something else, once Dee got to know the reserved blonde a bit more.

Not only was Sirris her parent; kind, patient Sirris who taught science and was laid back enough that even the rowdiest delinquents begrudgingly tolerated them. But it also meant that most people, or students - not to mention, Whitney and Headmaster Leighton -  didn’t fuck with her. 

Or- At least not to the extent that they like to do with her.

It also became apparent that Sydney actually was as innocent and chaste as she behaved. Like the churches fucking holy figure incarnate. Oblivious towards any of the advances and comments made towards her. Unblemished to a degree she could never hope to be. Not in her circumstances. In short, it meant she was treasured.

“Treasured”. 

A word, so unattainable, Dee could only hungrily salivate over the thought of it. 

Jealousy simmering in her chest, as she shivered in her shitty, orphanage issued bed. As she choked down the cheap, bland food the orphanage provided. 

As she had to steal, fight and whore herself out to stay afloat. As she had to waste more money on bandages, than necessities, green and blue as she was from another run in with would be rapists, kidnappers, bullies and so on. At this point they all started to blend together. 

As another week's pay disappeared into Bailey's bottomless pockets. Another week of freedom, for now at least. An incessant cycle.

Yes. Dees' feelings of neutrality had quickly soured into resentment, for someone who wasn’t even aware of how good they had it.

So the next few times they had crossed paths, Dee had been curt, snappy, maybe even a little cruel; stealing one of the books, knowing Sydney would be the one getting in trouble for it. Despite her best attempts to not let her jealousy boil over.

It had left the Librarian visibly confused and uncertain but annoyingly polite despite it all. 

For the sake of her own sanity, morals as well as a Detention free life, Dee had taken to avoiding Sydney altogether and that had almost been the end of things. 

Until an Idea started to creep in. A gross, sickly little thing that would make her no better than the rest of the fucks in this town. 

But the thought didn't leave her, slowly grew with each passing day instead; like mold or.. lichen she supposed.

She wanted to ruin Sydney. Wanted to drag her down to her level, in the only way she knew. . .

Which is how we find ourselves back in the present. Sydney fervently, desperately dry-humping Dee's ass. Her surprisingly massive girlcock soaking precum into both of their skirts. 

Dee couldn’t even lie to herself; just thinking about Sydney’s pretty, meaty cock had her salivating. Who would've thought someone so cute could hide something so massive under their skirt?

But right now was not the time for that, she had her homework to finish.

Besides- hearing Sydney’s whorish, unabashed moans as the blondes whole body pressed into her back, hands desperately groping and pawing her tits and waist and her cock grinding into her with an almost religious fervor - was exactly the kind of ego boost she needed right now.