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Misha’s quite firmly ensconced in his own headspace as he walks through the door to his hotel room, his thoughts more chaotic than usual, his expression deeply contemplative. He’s so lost in thought as he absentmindedly hangs up his jacket that he doesn’t even notice Castiel’s presence until the angel is drawing him into his arms.
“Cas,” Misha murmurs happily, and just like that, the tension he’s been holding onto for the last hour since he dropped Richard and Gabriel off drains away, and he’s burying his nose in the juncture between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, breathing him in.
“Hello, Misha,” Castiel says softly, one hand caressing down Misha’s spine, the other resting on his hip.
“Didn’t think you’d make it back today.” Misha’s still nuzzling into Castiel’s skin, not quite willing to pull away yet.
“This was important,” Castiel says. “It took some effort, but I was quite determined to make sure I could be here to check on things.” He pauses, his voice going lower. “And I must admit, I’ve missed you. I was grateful, when I heard your prayer, to have the excuse to come.”
Misha smiles against Castiel’s neck, nips gently at the spot before soothing it with a lingering kiss. A shudder passes through Castiel, and Misha revels in it. “What a coincidence. I was missing you too.”
“Misha,” Castiel admonishes, pulling away though it clearly pains him to do so. “What of my brother? Is he all right?”
“Cas, do you really think I’d be here, doing this, pretending everything was okay if it wasn’t?” Misha pouts, but then winks to let Castiel know he’s teasing. “What kind of guy do you take me for, anyway?”
Castiel arches an eyebrow, giving the actor an unimpressed look. And oh, yeah, that’s right…the angel is best friends with Dean Winchester.
Misha almost forgot.
He sighs, rolls his eyes a little and tugs Castiel back to him by the lapels of his trench coat. “He’s fine, Cas. Promise. A little shaken, a lot weak, but getting better all the time. And he’s got Richard looking after him.” This time, when he kisses Castiel, it’s a real kiss, one that sparks through him as their lips meet and press and linger. When he pulls back this time, after a suitably long moment, Castiel looks a little dazed, and Misha’s pretty proud of himself. “Seriously. You did good.”
“I had hoped it would work,” Castiel says on a sigh, relief shining in his eyes. “But I wasn’t sure, when I first bound their souls, if it would. Just because you and I share a connection does not make it the rule.” He closes his eyes, breathes deeply. “I worried deeply for him. I still do.”
“Hey,” Misha says, running a hand through Castiel’s dark, perpetually-messy hair. The angel’s eyes, so much more electric than his own, open again and meet his gaze. “He really is gonna be okay. As messed up as he was, he was…happy. The friendship he’s got with Richard is strong enough to see him through this. And he has family here, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
“I cannot be here all the time,” Castiel says, his voice filled with regret. This, at least, is a conversation they’ve had before, though admittedly one that never gets easier.
Castiel can’t stay here, because he still exists on a level too intrinsic to the continued survival of his own universe. The longer he’s away, the worse things get there. It’s a balancing act, and not an easy one.
But it is worth it.
“Just because you can’t stay doesn’t mean you can’t visit.” Misha grins, poking the angel playfully in the chest. “You’ve already proven that. And I think Gabriel will be happy just knowing you care. So stop worrying so damn much.”
Castiel bows his head, a small smile twitching at his lips. “I will endeavor to do as you command.”
“Damn right you will.” Misha nods in a superior, satisfied sort of way, grinning again at the dry look Castiel gives him then. “So…guessing you’ve got to get going?” The angel being here at all was unexpected. Him staying for longer than a few precious moments is ridiculously unlikely, no matter how much Misha really wants to lay him out on the bed and have his way with him, before curling around him and sleeping the afternoon away in his arms, and...
Castiel is smiling now, and Misha remembers quite suddenly, Oh, yeah, he can read minds you idiot. And Misha’s in particular. Oops.
“Er…” Misha says.
Castiel invades his space, backing Misha further into the room, toward the bed. One hand lands on Misha’s shoulder as the backs of his knees hit the mattress, pushes down. And holy shit, but the smirk twisting the angel’s features right now is downright lecherous. “I think,” Castiel all but purrs, “that I could be convinced to stay a bit longer. With the right incentive, of course.”
And that, Misha is more than capable of providing.