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The blankets were in a tangled mess around them, but over their bodies…nothing. He wore so many layers when he was out in the world that when they were together Meg made a point of forbidding them, one and all. It started simply enough. Removing his tie. His coat. Pulling his shirt open one button at a time. The clink of his belt being unbuckled, the soft thump of his pants hitting the floor. Her hands on his skin. His hands in her hair. She’d tilt her head back to be kissed and for once in her long and tumultuous life, there would be no barrier between herself and another being, physical or otherwise. And afterwards? Afterwards she lay pressed against his side, their bodies cooling in the empty air, covered in only darkness.
Castiel ran his hand up the length of her arm where it draped over his chest, travelling over her shoulder and down her side. His fingers skipped across her ribs, too prominent under her skin, making him wonder if she was taking good enough care of her vessel. He wouldn’t think of it as a body. When he looked at her, he could not see the girl that had once lived there. There was only the swirling darkness of the demon. Whatever may have happened to that girl was not for him to say. There was only Meg, and that was all he needed to know. His hand continued its path along the soft curve of her hip, settling there, wide palm covering the pale skin as he turned just enough to look at her. Time was slipping by him too fast. Such a human concept…time. A concept that shouldn’t have applied to them, and yet so often did. Time spent together, always ticking down to the time they would spend apart…so much greater than the former. So many hours spent fighting forces that weren’t always in tandem. And yet here, for a few hours, they had peace. They had armistice. They had solace.
“Keep lookin’ at me like that, Clarence, and I’m gonna think you’re about to propose.” Meg opened one eye lazily to look up at him, then let it close. The corner of her mouth curled upward and and she nudged in closer. Her head, resting on his shoulder, was a pleasant weight, and he curled his arm upwards to twist his fingers through her hair.
“I’m not going to propose,” he said, logic overriding sense for the moment. “Marriage is a purely human construct which has no bearing on the potentially infinite span of our lives.”
“Always a bridesmaid…” she said with a rye drawl, but she did not elaborate.
He paused to consider, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re making a joke.”
Meg chuckled, and the corners of his mouth rose a fraction. So rare, to hear her amusement without the disdain that seemed to walk hand in hand most days. “Yes, Castiel, I’m making a joke. I’m not waiting for you to sweep me off my feet, shove me in a dress that makes me look like a cupcake, profess your undying love in front of a room full of strangers, then eat cheap steak in a VFW with bad music. Be still my heart.” The sarcasm was there, but she was still happy.
Carefully, not wanting to dislodge her, Cas turned on his side, looking down at her small frame tucked so close against him. He could have, he supposed, if he’d thought that was a thing she wanted. What did it matter to him, after all? And though he knew such a thing didn’t matter to her either, it was an interesting thing to consider. In a way, the very concept represented so much. If she’d wanted it, he’d have done it, regardless of how illogical it was, or how little it mattered in the grand scheme of things. That was the way of their relationship. She’d never asked him for anything, even when she’d had more than enough reason to. More than the right to. How could he deny her anything, after all she’d given him? After all she’d given for him? Yes, he supposed he would do something like that. Something strange, and human, and completely illogical. For her. If only to see her smile.