Falling (In Love)
Destiel Fanfiction
2,065 words
Rated G
Tags: Aftermath Of A Case (we don't see the case, but we see what Situation Dean and Cas have ended up in because of it), Castiel Is A Fallen Angel, Dean Sees Cas's Wings, Near Death Experience, First Kiss.
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures even if those measures are jumping out of the window on the seventieth floor with nothing but hope and mangled fallen angel wings to keep you in the air. Probably not the best time for a kiss... or is it?
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In terms of ‘situations where escape seems impossible’ Dean would probably rank this at a solid two. He’s not entirely sure what keeps it from being number one, since there are currently a group of eight witches blocking the only doored exit to the room, and the only other way out would be through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him – seventy stories up from the ground. Dean lost his gun a few floors back, and Cas’s angel blade was stolen by the witches, so they’re also weapon-less. But he figures that while the spell book that he and Cas just stole is still in his hands the witches won’t risk damaging it, so at least they can stall for time while he thinks of some way to get them both out with the book. He’s escaped with impossible odds against him all the time.
It just feels a little more impossible than usual.
Dean glances over at Cas, hoping to see some kind of glint in his eyes that means he’s got a plan. But he’s not looking at Dean. His eyebrows are drawn together in indecision and worry and he’s staring straight ahead with a vacant expression that means he’s deep in his thoughts.
Hope flares in Dean’s chest.
He’s learned enough from Cas’s expressions over the years to know that he’s got something up his sleeve. Something risky, but hell, Dean’s not picky about that right now.
The witches all take a pace forwards as a unit and Cas tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve to pull him back further towards the window, to keep their distance. Nothing but a desk separates them now.
The huge glass window is pressing cold and solid against their backs in a cruel reminder that freedom is a pane of glass away, but they’d never survive the fall.
“Just give us the book Winchester,” one of the witches snaps.
“Give us the book and we’ll let you both live,” another adds in a low, persuasive tone.
“Like hell you will,” Dean retorts with a snort, “you think I’m gonna trust a single damn thing that comes out of a witch’s mouth?”
A witch taller than the others takes another step closer to them both, her chin held high, and she examines her long, blood red nails as if bored by the whole situation. “Boys, boys, boys,” she says, with a shake of her head, “I grow tired of this. You’ve stolen my book, and I want it back. There is clearly nowhere for you to go, so I suggest that you hand it over, or I will regretfully have to kill you both and hope that my book survives.”
“This book contains angelic spells, and it belonged to the angels before it belonged to you. You’re the ones who stole it in the first place. You have no more claim to it than we do,” Cas says suddenly, his voice firm and full of defiance.
“Yeah, except Cas is an angel, so really, yknow, if it belongs to anyone it belongs to him,” Dean adds, tapping the front cover of the old book with his knuckles and scoping out the room again while he stalls for time, hoping to find any way out of this. Preferably without him and Cas becoming spell-practice for witches or bloody smears on the sidewalk below them.
The bold witch at the front laughs in a throaty cackle.
Dean smiles. “Wow, nice laugh you got there, Wicked Witch of the West, you about to tell me you’re gonna get me and my little dog too?”
“Mm, you are pretty I’ll give you that. But no, I’m just amused that you can call that an angel. I’ve been using those spells a long time, so I can see something of this… abomination’s true form, and trust me, Winchester, if you could see what I see you wouldn’t call it an angel.”
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Extremely Serious headcanon incoming (sarcastic) (but this is also genuinely how they are to me)
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i like to think in the jingliu-luocha friendship, jingliu is the real silly menace on a leash. but on the other end of said leash there is no one holding it.
she gives off an air of cold elegance and mystery, but luocha knows this woman. her fury, strength, and conviction to her goals are genuine, but so is her playfulness. mara can strike at any time, so why not have some fun?
someone will die. of fun! but both phrases came out of the same person's mouth.
though perhaps her idea of fun is a bit...niche. a touch on the violent side. it would put luocha a tad on "edge", IF he was a normal person by any stretch.
if only yanqing didn't have the exact same idea of fun. at least they both agree that her sense of humor is on the derivative side (i mean i love it) (edit: “convoluted” instead of "derivative" idk what my original intent was) and wholly unexpected initially.
they theorized her inappropriate timing and bizarre dark humor may have stemmed from her current circumstances, but jing yuan is quick to correct them that she's always been like this - it's just been a bit amplified.
"mara works in mysterious ways", jingliu responds to the commentary on her personality.
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