[Castiel almost rushes in without thought, but the hug from Dean is a grounding force that he greedily seeks purchase in. Dean's not as sturdy as he remembers, but he's still the very same soul and everything is still exactly as he left it.
Rather than languish in his arms, he pulls back to inspect the differences in him from what he remembered in the bunker after saying goodbye. He was twice as old then as he is now, but not too much had changed. Just the weariness in his eyes, and the ache of age he hid with liquor and humor, two of his favorite vices.
Castiel can't really place the when, but the scruff on his jaw, and the slight overgrowth to his hair suggest a time he'd rather forget. Purgatory. When he'd willingly left Dean to escape so he could pay for his own misgivings.]
no subject
Rather than languish in his arms, he pulls back to inspect the differences in him from what he remembered in the bunker after saying goodbye. He was twice as old then as he is now, but not too much had changed. Just the weariness in his eyes, and the ache of age he hid with liquor and humor, two of his favorite vices.
Castiel can't really place the when, but the scruff on his jaw, and the slight overgrowth to his hair suggest a time he'd rather forget. Purgatory. When he'd willingly left Dean to escape so he could pay for his own misgivings.]
Why wouldn't I be real?