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“Alright, I’m ready. You?” She said, watching him carefully. She had asked him to tell her all about her true form. She can’t remember what it looked like, and Castiel could see it—him calling her beautiful was not enough. She wanted to know. “Tell me everything, Clarence, and don’t worry about sparing the gory details.”
Castiel shifted in his seat with a sigh, before looking back up at her. “Ready.”
She flashes him a smile, unusually sincere. “Then what’re y’ waiting for, Unicorn?”
He smiles back, setting his shoulders. “Your, your hair; it’s brown, thick. One side reaches your shoulder, the other is cut about halfway up. You have bangs; they reach just above your eyelids. Your eyes,” He leans closer, getting a better look. “They’re a slightly deeper brown than your hair is, flecked with gold and gray. Th-there’s a hole through one, not obstructing your view, I assume, it’s through your sclera, but your eye kept its shape, which is odd.” He pauses at her nose.
Meg waves him on, “C’mon, Cas, ain’t got all day, I don’t mind gore. I’ve lived it, remember? Did you see me flinch at the eye thing? No, because I don’t give a shit, I just want to know what I look like.”
He shifts again, but keeps talking. “It’s…sideways. It’s pressing against your right cheek, and it’s oozing a black substance, your blood, I assume.” He pauses again, looking back up at her.
She just smiles again. “See, that wasn’t so bad, now keep going.”
So he does, and leaves in the gory details, just as she asked. “Your mouth is cut open on the left side, like a lopsided, deathly grin.”
He gets cut off by Meg, who spoke with her usual snark, but sounded light. “Sounds like me.” Castiel probably would’ve agreed, but he was worried she was insulting herself, and she could tell, so, she smiled wide, and in her best Joker voice she could manage—which wasn’t very great—she spoke again. “Why so serious?”
Cas squinted at her, confused, before shaking his head and continuing as she waved him on. “Your chin is split, but it’s only skin deep. Your arms are bruised, shades varying from purple, to green, to blue, to black. Your torso, the parts that aren’t clothed—your clothes are shredded by the way—are blistered,” He was cut off again.
“Did I not tell you I had a wild time before I died, Clarence? Hellhounds are rough to play with.”
He looked up at her, waiting for her to continue, when she didn’t, he took it as his cue. “Much like yourself.”
She smiled again, nowhere near as wide as her Joker-smile from before, and much more genuine. “You know it, Unicorn, now, please, keep going.”
They often got like this, going off topic due to banter. Castiel continued his verbal portrait of the demon. “Your legs are charred. Your right foot is backward.”
Meg wiggles herself off of her seat, still smiling. “That all the important bits, Clarence?”
He nodded at her, smiling back. “That’s everything, Meg.”
She doesn’t say anything, her smile still there, Meg rarely seemed so happy. Her smile stays as she stands up from her seat, and as she walks over to Castiel, and as she kisses his cheek.
It’s still there when she looks him in the eyes and says, “Thanks, Unicorn.”