It's at this point, that Castiel just slides right into a deep, dark pit of shame. The more he's coming out of his shellshocked, panicked state from earlier, the more he becomes aware of the fact that he alerted Sam and Dean to something they should never have seen, much less take care of for him.
He's just another mess to clean up. So his eyes drop away, find a loose thread on the sheets and focus on that.
"No."
It's his punishment collar. Right now, he wants something to keep him in his proper place, something to remind me of just how utterly he's failing his dom by doing this. Jason will never forgive him for this, and Castiel isn't even sure he can forgive himself.
They have an agreement. They have rules. The rules change all the time, but they're still there, and Castiel should never have deviated from them. He's supposed to call Jason, never anyone else. He's supposed to be a subpetslaveseenbutnotheardplaythingslutbitch--
Dean is hovering, awkwardly. His voice is pitched low, as if he's not sure how to tread here, because Cas seems to have checked out on them completely now. So he clears his throat, shuffles from one foot to the other a little. That's his best friend there, and he's got not choice but to let his little brother take the lead because - go, Sammy - his little brother actually seems to know two things about all this shit.
Not that it's shit. Dean knows enough to not judge.
It's just shit the way this Jason guy - aka the Winchesters' future punching bag - has been doing it.
Doing it with Dean's best friend involved, who's an angel of the fucking Lord and now has to focus on how to breathe calmly in order to even fucking get out of his house.
Yeah, Dean's gonna kill the guy.
Castiel calms down when he hooks two fingers into the collar, as if tightening it grounds him a little. His eyes open again, but he looks lost. One step forward, two back and a couple dozen to the side.
no subject
He's just another mess to clean up. So his eyes drop away, find a loose thread on the sheets and focus on that.
"No."
It's his punishment collar. Right now, he wants something to keep him in his proper place, something to remind me of just how utterly he's failing his dom by doing this. Jason will never forgive him for this, and Castiel isn't even sure he can forgive himself.
They have an agreement. They have rules. The rules change all the time, but they're still there, and Castiel should never have deviated from them. He's supposed to call Jason, never anyone else. He's supposed to be a subpetslaveseenbutnotheardplaythingslutbitch--
Dean is hovering, awkwardly. His voice is pitched low, as if he's not sure how to tread here, because Cas seems to have checked out on them completely now. So he clears his throat, shuffles from one foot to the other a little. That's his best friend there, and he's got not choice but to let his little brother take the lead because - go, Sammy - his little brother actually seems to know two things about all this shit.
Not that it's shit. Dean knows enough to not judge.
It's just shit the way this Jason guy - aka the Winchesters' future punching bag - has been doing it.
Doing it with Dean's best friend involved, who's an angel of the fucking Lord and now has to focus on how to breathe calmly in order to even fucking get out of his house.
Yeah, Dean's gonna kill the guy.
Castiel calms down when he hooks two fingers into the collar, as if tightening it grounds him a little. His eyes open again, but he looks lost. One step forward, two back and a couple dozen to the side.