If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?


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IC contact: Sirenspull
- your calls are bad news
paterelohim
Uh, hi! This is Ca- I mean Chuck Shurley, just- Chuck, sorry. [Indistinct fumbling noises] Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks?

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Life is contradictory.

Don't plow through my booze as your pain medication. It's not exactly healthy.

I'm not using it as such.

[The pain's manageable on the medication. He just wants the other effects from the alcohol.]

Mixing substances is really risky.

If you need more pain relief, just up how much you're taking. [Licking the popsicle mildly.]

[He's quiet a moment before actually sharing something.]

The medication is making me nauseous.

[Hence the crackers. And after resting so much the past few days, he can't sleep anymore, so there's another reason, and he really wants the more mind-numbing effects of the alcohol that the pain meds aren't giving him.]

[ 8( Caaaas.]

...Okay.

So.

Cut down your dose by half a pill and next time you take them, you can have a little to drink?

[Well. Guess who's at the end of their dosage and set to take the next in about fifteen minutes anyway? Good timing.]

How much?

[He's drifting back toward the liquor cabinet now.]

[Wheeeeeling up to cut you off there, Barney.]

I'll make it. What do you want?

[And there's a flash of temper at that, before he can suppress it.]

I'm capable of doing it.

[He sighs and pinches his nose.]

Cas. You've helped me in and out of my wheelchair about, what, eighty times now? I just... come on, I know you can, but.

[He almost looks like he's going to be stubborn about it, but the flare or attitude disappears as fast as it came. He backs off and leans against the counter once more, answering the initial question.]

It doesn't matter.

[Chuck presses his lips together and whips up a quick chocolate martini- a very small one, the equivalent of two shots.]

Here. Trust me- it's all you'll need.

[Oh. Chocolate. He's just barely cheered up by that, taking the drink and actually sipping it instead of just downing it as he usually would.]

[Wheeling up to the table, picking up his popsicle again from the wrapper and finishing it off.]

You want some chocolate syrup in that?

This is fine.

[In other words, he likes it and really does appreciate you making it, even if he's not saying it.

Glancing over at the wrapper, eyes caught by the motion, he then realizes Chuck's NV is sitting on the table, open to a message. Curious, oblivious to the rudeness and not really caring anyway, he just picks the device up and begins to read, scrolling quickly in pace with his rapid reading. It takes a fraction of the time it should've for him to take in the half-written message.

And... Well. He hadn't had any idea Chuck was this angry. He'd known he was angry when his voice took on that strange quality back when they'd been treating his injuries, but not like this.]


Are you intending to send this?

[Chuck is a deer in headlights for about two seconds, then reaches out to snatch his NV away.]

No. [When he looks at the message again it's like he's seeing it with new eyes: every jab, every passive-aggressive stab and cutting remark that would have been so devastating for Sam to read. Even in his still-potent anger at the man, it strikes him as twisted that Chuck, with his intimate emotional insight into what moves and drives Sam, into his demons and innermost thoughts, should use that to know how best to hurt him.

He snaps the NV shut, tense and temporarily mollified.]


He would probably deserve it- but no.

[Castiel doesn't bother attempting to keep the NV out of reach, allowing Chuck to take it back and just watching the prophet a moment, drink forgotten on the table.

He's not sure how he feels about this. He's angry with Sam himself, and as he has been able to recognize only lately, hurt. But at the same time he was there, and he realizes that afforded him a different view of the situation than Chuck likely had. He's angry, but he almost understands.]


He wasn't himself.

[It's quiet, and out of what was, again, the protectiveness he feels for the brothers. It doesn't justify what happened, but Castiel doesn't believe Sam truly chose to do this.]

[It makes sense. On some level, Chuck knows this.]

I don't really care. Every morning when you wake up you look like a six year old who just realized that their puppy was hit by a car.

So. Yeah. Nope. In this recession economy? I don't have a fuck to give.

[He glances down, and off to the side, quiet for a moment at that. It's difficult for him to pick out what all he's feeling at the moment, some strange mix of anger and sadness and embarrassment, and at the same time almost touched. It meant something that Chuck was this angry and concerned over how Castiel felt, though at the same time he was displeased with himself for apparently being so pathetic.]

I'm fine.

[And a pause, as he brings up something he's been thinking about.]

We likely should be more concerned than we have been about the situation itself. We don't know what effect angel blood may have, how long the effects will last, or what may happen it wears off. And if he had such an intense craving for demon blood, he may again.

[The distraction talking about problems that need to be solved is far preferable to talking about himself.]

[He lets a long moment lapse in silence, leaning on the table with his face buried in one hand.]

There's a reason I've been so anal about letting you outside alone.

[Well, it hadn't been obvious that was the reason, but he'd begun to suspect it the last few times.]

It's unlikely I would be at risk.

[He doubts Sam is just hiding in the bushes somewhere waiting to spring out on him or anything.]

However others might be.

Who, Gabriel and Lucifer? I think they'll be okay.

If Sam stops being "himself" again, then not-he will know who the vulnerable one is. He wouldn't want to pick on someone his own size.

Figuratively. I don't think anybody's his own size.

If he chose an angel while desiring demon blood, any supernatural being may be a potential substitute.

[And the rest of those comments don't help. He's well aware that he's the only angel weak and pathetic enough to be overpowered by a simple human, but he is not some delicate victim, thanks. He downs the rest of his drink in one motion and storms out of the room, back toward the couch.]

Edited at 2011-09-09 07:25 am (UTC)

[Fuuuuuck. Chuck bangs his head against the table then turns his wheelchair around and follows him.]

Cas! Don't do that, man.

[He does stop at the protest, though he doesn't respond or turn around. If you have something to say, Chuck, go for it. Otherwise he's probably going to try going back to sleep now.]

Edited at 2011-09-09 07:39 am (UTC)

I wasn't trying to say that you're weak. I mean- fucking look at me.

That's just... no. [He grips the wheel handles tightly, chewing on his lip for a second to think.]

You're human, that's not...

Honestly? Anyone who actually thinks less of you probably doesn't deserve to know you.

[Chick flick moment. Hnngh.]

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