A/N: So I just reread the previous chapter...and there's a line in there that I didn't write. My friend did. Yeah, it was the final line that Jo has when she whispers to Charlie. The words were different when I wrote them, but basically the connotation was the same, so I can't be too upset. So I'm leaving it there. Yep. Thank you for your reviews (you know who you are) expect pie and vinyl from me as a gift. Also, no Sabriel in this one. Sorry...I already mentioned Jess… -Pyxie xx
Castiel shoots up in bed and looks around his walls to make sure that he's actually inside of his dorm room and not...well, where he had just been. He pats himself down to make sure that he actually exists and lies back. His eyes scrutinise the ceiling in a fashion not unlike contemplating murder.
He can't fall asleep again, and looking at the clock, it would be a waste of time to not do anything with his wakefulness. As quietly as possible, he pulls on a pair of slippers, grabs his bag, and leaves his dorm room without waking his roommate. He heaves a sigh of relief when he makes it into the hallway without incident. The common room is empty so he plops down at the bar at the window and makes himself comfortable.
The sky is still dark, but small tendrils of grey are seeping over the horizon. Castiel pulls out his physics book and starts to decode the thirteenth chapter. Not because his class is on the thirteenth chapter, but because reading about physics calms his nerves. And after lucid dreams, his nerves need calming.
Three new people have made appearances at the Lucid Dreaming Club since its formation two weeks ago. Dean seems to have lucid dreams about three to four times a week, each one having to do with the Moon and Sun or some other natural object yelling at him. Quite unlike Castiel's dreams.
The other lucid dreams have to do mostly with flying. Or, rather, more often, the attempt at flying. Very rarely have people made the attempt to manipulate the world around them. It seems that there are too often extraneous factors in which people are unable to have full control themselves and the world around them in their dreams.
"What about you, Castiel? What are you dreams like?" Charlie is sitting in one of the auditorium chairs, sucking on a latte, and watching Castiel with curious eyes. Every meeting that they've ever had, she tries to get him to tell one of his dreams, and each time, he responds with a polite 'no'.
But this time, he wants to talk about it. He wants to get it off of his chest. No longer does he want to simply be an observer. For the first time, he wants to tell the entirety of his dream. So he recounts in the form of a story.
Everywhere there is darkness and everywhere there is light and everywhere does not exist. Castiel stands in the middle of this nothingness, grasping on to a single nothingness within this nothingness. But he feels something in his hand. Something with length and depth and weight and it tethers him in the emptiness in which he finds himself.
A dream. And once he has that realisation achieved, he manipulates everything to be exactly the way he wants it to be. A slice of sanctity. Blue skies, warm weather, green grass, and a perfectly pruned garden.
Wings sprout from his back. Black as the abyss and as wide as a backdrop. Terrifying and threatening. And yet, ethereal and beautiful. Soft as cashmere and durable as steel. And upon closer inspection, the black on his wings is not from their natural hues. Instead, they are charred. And no matter how hard he tries to fix it, burned they remain. Instead he sends them into being incorporeal in his already incorporeal world.
He changes everything again, and he recreates a library of marble and granite with cavernous ceilings and stained glass windows. It's clean and the sound of flipping pages and high heels against the marble is comforting. And there he remained for the duration of his dream. Or at least, for as long as he could have.
Like the ending of all of his lucid dream, the world violently tilts and he falls. The door to library opens, and he is ejected outwards. He lands in a pit of fire when he wakes up.
Dean is staring at Castiel in an entirely new light. "You have full control. How...how do you do that?"
"I'm not sure. I suppose it just comes to me."
Dean sighs and looks up at the lighting that hangs over the stage. He starts to get the feeling that if he could control his dreams completely, then they wouldn't be such a problem, but this-whatever he's experiencing-is not comfortable, it's not normal, and it's not conducive to his existence. Fine, lucid dreaming is pretty cool, but if it's partial lucidity, there's a certain quality of discomfort throughout the enitre dream that he wishes that he could get passed. Get passed it like how Castiel gets passed it.
"Well, aren't you lucky. You should hear some of Dean's earlier dreams." Jo laughs, clearly finding some amount of amusement in Dean's distaste of his dreams.
And Castiel understands. "He doesn't have to tell me if he doesn't feel comfortable."
Jo shrugs. "Well, suit yourself. I won't force him into it."
The three new members, Garth, Sarah, and Tessa, have had their fair share of lucid dreams. The occurrence of their dreams is nowhere near as frequent as Dean's or Castiel's but, for them, even having had just a couple is exciting. Flight seems to be a common theme throughout the club. Even Castiel has found himself fond of the sensation of flight. The weightlessness and the feeling of being relieved from gravity even momentarily is such a liberation.
And like that, the hour is over and everyone filters out. Castiel can't figure out why, but he finds himself lingering back in the auditorium as Charlie and Jo leave together and as Tessa and Garth and Sarah climb the stairs to the exit in the back of the auditorium. Gabriel doesn't say anything as he leaves, only sends Castiel a lewd wink and a smirk.
As the door closes behind his cousin, Castiel becomes hyperaware of the fact that left in the auditorium, it's just him and Dean. The air becomes stuffy, his lungs starts to contract, his heart beats overtime. And he can't discern why.
He turns to say something to Dean. But his words catch in his throat. Sitting, legs spread, on the stage is Dean, his green eyes staring up at the ceiling. Castiel can't see his expression from his angle, but he can tell that there's some amount of stress in Dean's face.
"I'm in way over my head, man." Dean mutters, seemingly more to himself than to Castiel. "I wasn't thinking clearly when I made this club. Really I just wanted to know that I wasn't alone with this whole weird dream shit, y'know."
Castiel manages a nod, but when he remains quiet, Dean looks down at him and raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Of course you know, this club thing was your idea too. I just figured you'd talk more about it."
Again, another strained nod. Dean sighs and looks back up at the ceiling. And Castiel yearns for that gaze to be directed at him again. He speaks against his will.
"I feel that my dreams of lucidity aren't quite as exciting or as enjoyable to listen to as yours, Dean." And there's that gaze again. Castiel has Dean's full attention, and suddenly he knows why his body had started having strange reactions to being alone with Dean. "My dreams are only exciting at the end. But it's true that I have full control."
"And I'm thinking that you should try experimenting with that." Castiel's eyes must have widened in shock, because Dean is backtracking. "Not that you have to, I just figured that it'd be pretty cool to see what you could do. And if you could hold conversations with people."
Castiel nods, thoughtful of this idea. "I'll try it my next lucid dream. You try it too."
Dean hops off of the stage and picks up his bag from the floor. "I will. I've always tried, but weird things start happening with the dialogue, so I just stick with the basic plan."
"Flight?"
"It's the only time I'm not afraid of the empty airways." Dean shrugs and takes a step closer to Cas.
Silences descends upon them, and they just stare at each other. Castiel finds himself drawn to the green of Dean's eyes and how the stage lights bring out the hazel around the pupils. And how each freckle is pronounce in the light. Castiel's eyes freely roam across Dean's face as if trying to archive each detail for future reference. How many freckles does Dean Winchester have on his face? A finite number, certainly. A number that Castiel is able to count to, definitely. However, will he ever be given the time to count them? Probably not.
In his visual exploration of Dean's face, Castiel has missed how Dean is leaning forward, his eyes darting between lips and eyes. And when soft, yet calloused, hands reach up to cup his cheeks, suddenly, and attention is on Dean actions. Castiel stays as still as possible as though any move will push Dean away.
"Cas, I was thinking...that maybe I should ask your permission first." Dean's voice is soft. The spectre of his words ghosts over Castiel's lips and he finds himself nodding.
And slowly, the minute distance between them is crossed, and lips touch, tentative and gentle. After barely a few seconds, Dean pulls away, takes a step back and looks over Cas' face. A grin breaks out over that perfect face.
"Alright. Well...I will…" Dean starts back towards the stairs and runs into the auditorium chairs and stumbles back. He laughs. "I'll see you soon. Later. Words." He turns to start walking up the stairs, seems to think better of it, drops his bag, and walks back to Castiel.
Castiel opens his mouth to say something, but all words are smothered by Dean's lips over his, demanding and desperate. Dean's fingers card through Castiel's hair as he delves deep passed lips and teeth. Cas' hands cling to the back of Dean's jacket to hold him right where he is this time.
And everything makes sense.
A/N: First off, I'm so sorry that this has taken so long for me to update...midterms are coming up and I'm...dying. Who wants to take my place? Anyways, it happened! Whoo! And I needed Tessa in this story because she's so underrated in the show and I needed more chicks in the club. A certain somebody is going to appear soon, just to let you know. As always, I always love reviews; they motivate me to write more and faster! -Pyxie xx
