motions
spoilers for 5/21
He's been human for almost six weeks now, and he's barely getting used to the routine. He finds that he enjoys sleep (though is often confused by dreams and nightmares), and finds that his favorite food really is cheeseburgers, whether Dean or Famine are to blame is still to be determined, though he's discovered he cannot eat more than three in one day.
He lives with Bobby now, in the spare bedroom upstairs. One bed, a dresser and a closet with only a few items of clothing. The suit of Jimmy's he'd been wearing for over two years, the trench coat, a series of shirts and pants that once belong to Dean. He feels...odd...to say the least in them; loose t-shirts and ratty jeans. At least the shoes fit.
During the day he does things around the house, busy work. Cleaned out the gutters (though it took him a while to get the concept of being on ladder while trying to do something else at the same time). He moves things around the junk yard, aimlessly with no purpose, just to have something to do. Muscles ache, he cuts himself and the sunlight occasionally bothers him.
In the quiet of the night, in the darkness of his bedroom, he lies on his back and for the first time; prays. How humans communicate with Father, pathetic he thinks, but how else is he supposed to talk to Him? Though he hadn't seen Father in a millennium, Castiel was always able to feel him, close to what the humans call the heart, always near him, until now.
"I don't know what to do," Cas says aimlessly, a tear in his eye. He falls asleep staring at the ceiling.
One night, Bobby instructs him to leave the house, just to get out and 'to stop mopping around, hurting yourself every five minutes'. Dean had left him money so he goes to a little bar in town (everything is in walking distance) called 'Mikey's'. He's a little unsure of what to do when he enters; the lights are dim, the music is loud, and the room is full of smoke, which makes him cough at first.
No one pays him any mind as he sits by himself at a table by the window. The chair is hard, the surface sticky. The smell of the bar triggers his hunger and his thirst. A waitress comes back. He finds her pretty, tall with long black hair held back by a braid. Her eyes are weary, but she smiles when she gets to his table. "Haven't seen you around here before," she states. "What can I get you?"
He finds his mouth dry and he may not be able to speak, but he forces it. His fingers tap along the side of the table and he orders a beer. "Sure thing, sweetie." She comes back later with it. "You new around here?" she asks as she puts the mug down in front of him.
He nods and tries not to look at her. "Well welcome," she says with a sweet smile that contradicts her sad eyes.
The next day he hauls tires from one side of the junk yard to the other. He sweats and bites his tongue when he trips over an engine block. Blood is bitter and it throbs. He spits into the groud and kicks the pile of tires and it twists his foot. He falls to the ground, leaning against a beat-up mustang.
He goes back to the bar a few nights later and sits in the same spot. She comes to his table again. "Oh you're back," she says with a glint in her eyes.
"Yes." He orders the same thing and when she comes back with the food and drink, she notices a slash on his arm.
"Oh what happened?"
He looks down at the cut, fresh from earlier in the day. He'd reached under the hood of a van and it slammed shut on his arm. It's still sore. "I...I a car." He sputters out.
Her lips turn down. "Poor thing. So you're a mechanic?" He tilts his head. She asks a lot of questions.
"No."
She is being flagged down at another table. She excuses herself and tells him she'll be back later to check on him. He finds himself watching her walk away, her long legs, rounded hips.
Bobby tells him he has to get a job. He's been moping around the junkyard for damn near three months and had to pull his weight. So he gets a job at the hardware store, moving boxes in the back. Away from people, to himself.
The muscles in his arms begin to get strong, with the constant lifting. He goes to the bar for lunch and meets her again. Each day he gets a little more friendly, he smiles at her, makes more eye contact. She starts to sit down with him when there's a lull in customers, pretends to accidentally touch his hand. Each day she makes him smile a little wider.
Her name is Skye and she's from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation outside of town. He introduces himself just as Cas. "That's an unusual name," she remarks.
One day after her shift, he walks her to the car and she leans against it, reaches up and touches his face before kissing him. His eyes flutter, cheeks flush. His body is stiff until she pulls away. "I'm sorry," she says, thinking she's stepped out of turn. He says nothing as she gets in the car and drives away.
He meets Skye for lunch, not at the bar, but at a deli down the street. "I am sorry for yesterday." He fumbles.
"I moved a little fast I guess," she says.
They walk down the street back to his work. Before going inside he kisses her. She touches his hair.
Two weeks later she invites him to her apartment for coffee. She brews it, but they never drink it. On the couch they make-out like teenagers; he can't keeps his hands off her hips. She's beautiful, black hair and caramel colored eyes. She straddles him, her pelvis over his hips.
This body isn't a virgin; his hands and fingers remember slightly, Jimmy's thoughts still lingering in the back of his mind. The body knows what feels good, where he should touch her, over her breasts, down to her thighs. She takes off her clothes for him, the shirt and skirt, her lace panties and striped print bra. His mouth goes completely dry at this sight, God's most wonderful creation.
"I haven't..." he begun. He doesn't want to tell her. "Not since..."
"Don't worry," she promises with a warm kiss down his neck. Her fingers trail down her stomach. She pulls off his shirt and lightly gasps at the scar over his chest. Some sort of triangle, an odd shape she'd never seen before. She traces it with her finger and that makes him shudder. "What happened, baby?"
He shakes his head and distracts her with a kiss. His pants on the floor, boxers follow. She's on top, rides him gently; his eyes roll in the back of his head and he holds her close as his body shakes with his first orgasm. He sees colors and different shapes. He rests his face in the crook of her neck, panting.
In bed one night, while they're naked, Cas runs his fingers along Skye's spine, circling at each vertebra. Bumps raise over her skin. She tells him things that she's never told other people. She only left the reservation last year after her grandfather died. She was married once, when she was a teenager, had a child that died during the birth.
"I still think about her sometimes," Skye says, a tear down her cheek.
He wipes it away.
Dean and Sam stop by for a while. Over dinner Dean asks Castiel how he's been. How the whole transition is going.
"Acceptable," he answers. He doesn't know if he would have seen Skye the same had he not become what he is. Maybe it's not so bad.