DAYDREAMER

DAYDREAMER Collective member. Level two. Castor Blake. Twenty-Eight. Esteemed member of the Crusaders. Hero. PTS: 310.

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

They wish desperately that things could just be normal with them, that they didn’t have this grand, fucked up, mysterious past that kept rearing its ugly head, ready to keep them from being able to have a quiet, gentle night with anxiety flaring up, keeping them from being able to calm their thoughts enough to just ignore it all in a healthy way for a bit. But they know that that’s not how things can work for them yet. They need to understand their past before they can move on from it, need to know what happened to land them dead in that river, what had led them to their situation with Flame Thrower and how it’s all connected, because they’re pretty fucking certain it is, just from the warnings that Jase has given them, and the feeling in their gut at that memory that had popped up when they’d healed Clint. And the thing is that no matter how hard this is, they know it would be a thousand times harder if they weren’t here with Cas, if they couldn’t tell him this while holding his hand, if they hadn’t started committing to this open honesty, no matter how hard it is, sharing so much with each other, and doing their best to offer support back.

It would be simpler, of course, if the Mordred moment was the only thing the had to bring up that had been weighing on their mind. Hell, if that was it, they probably would have already sought out the answer to those questions already, would have researched who Mordred was behind the name of a traitor, who they were before they were a Guardian even, and how this Maeve person connected it all, why that had made them stop and look at them with recognition, despite being a mindless zombie, and why they had a feeling it was connected to that woman in their memory. They don’t think that part of things would be anywhere near as bad as they’re certain everything they’re doing to find out about their before with Flame Thrower probably is. 

So when Cas intertwines their fingers, they hold on a little tighter, as they explain things, fighting through the urge to shut down, and back away, instead of being honest about this reality, and these fears. Because if anyone is going to understand, it’s him. There’s a reason that they’re both here, after all, a reason that they promised all of those things to him, and they work every day to make sure they’re keeping those promises. They care so deeply for him they’re not even sure they had the right words for it, and so of course, he would be here with them through this horrible revelation. He’s already promised as much, too, after all. And so it’s not really a surprise that Cas does exactly what they need without them even realizing it before he does. He shifts and sits up, pulling them close, holding them there and running fingers through their hair.

And it feels a little hard to breathe for a second, with that out in the open, saying it somehow making it hit them even harder just how real it is, that Flame Thrower has known who they are this whole time, knew that they were together, and has kept it from them. That even before that he was cruel, they don’t need to remember specifics yet to know that’s true. The panic is rising, but they focus on the feeling of Cas’s fingers in their hair, his warmth pressed against them as he agrees with them, tells them he’s sorry that’s what this all is. They close their eyes and hold onto that feeling, push back against the panic and the urge to shut down and run away.

“No, he never said anything about it, so who knows how bad things were before,” Lazarus mutters, before pulling back, too. The kiss is full of tenderness in a way that sends a chill through them, reminds them it’s something they deserve, not whatever it was Clint gave them before. “It is…and I know it’ll be worse when I figure it out, but I can’t not. I need to know, before I figure out what to do about him.” They can’t help the frown that comes with it all, but they need him to know that he is helping, just by being able to talk to him about it all. “Just being here with you…it helps. I don’t think I could deal with it if I didn’t have you to hold onto.”

They fall silent for a second, intertwine their fingers again, and bring Cas’s hand up to their lips, brushing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. “I just wish things could be normal for a minute. In the memory, I was standing there, dark hair, normal clothes, no cracks, no powers, and he fuckin’ took that away,” they say, not really thinking about the words. But something there hits, makes their chest ache in a way they don’t know how to put into words. All they can think is to hold onto Cas’s hand tighter.

...

Lazarus doesn’t pull away from him, so he must not have made too-wrong a move when he pulled them against his chest, when he cradled their body against him. It felt like the most important thing in the world, to be holding Lazarus. It felt vital, and needed. If he was on their side, spilling a revelation, he would want to be resting there with his head against their chest. He would want their fingers in his hair. He isn’t sure sometimes if his intsincts will really match up with what Lazarus wants, but it seems to work in moments like this. When he feels Lazarus settle against him, he lets out a soft sigh, an exhilation. 

He tries once again to get rid of all the secondhand fury he feels on Laz’s behalf. His own anger isn’t the right emotion to bring in to this place. But he can’t help the way it simmers low in his stomach, either. Cas has done a lot of thinking, lately, about all the ways that people have hurt him in the past. His father, the people who were supposed to be his friends, his mother and the way she turned her back on him. He’s been thinking about all of it, and felt a little spark of anger on his own behalf as well. No one should have been treated the way he was, as a child, in a way that only his powers had been able to save him from –– someone else should have tried to save him too. Someone older and wiser should have been protecting Cas, when he was a child. Someone should have made sure he stayed on the right path, that his emotions and his powers werent getting the better of him. 

But they had told him he was a god, instead. A hero. That he was burdened with a glorious purpose. They loved him for his power, but they hated when his power might turn against them in turn, when he became more of a risk than he was an asset. He didn’t feel like a person, really, not all the time, not when he was with the Crusaders. More like a poster boy, or a scapegoat, depending on the situation at hand. 

It makes him angry, because he knows that Lazarus has been used –– so many times and in so many different ways. Used and manipulated. Cas can’t help but want to put anyone whose ever done it to Lazarus in their place, can’t help but feel like he wants revenge for Lazarus. It was undeniable that whatever happened between Lazarus and Flame Thrower was fucked up –– it had to be, because Cas might not know Flame Thrower well, but he knows enough. When all the puzzle peices fit together, it won’t paint a pretty picture. It will be awful, he already knows. It will hurt Lazarus to know it all. To know that Flame Thrower knew them, and kept it from them, and manipulated them a hundred different ways.

He feels soft and pliant with how much he loves Lazarus, right now. He wants to protect them. And he feels softer still when they pull back, and he can look in their eyes again. He nods his head, in slow understanding, at their words. It will be painful, but they need to do it. They need to find out exactly what happened, reclaim that part of their life. It wouldn’t be right to allow Flame Thrower to own that part of them, no matter how awful it was. When Lazarus knows, and figures out what to do about Clint, Cas will be there for them. To support them in whatever shape or form they need the most. Whatever they ask of him, he’ll happily do it. Even if it’s just holding them, at the end of the day, when all else is said and done. “No, I get it. You need to know.” 

And he brushes a finger against their cheek, before offering the softest of smiles. It’s easy to promise what comes next, becuase it means a lot that Lazarus enjoys their company, that they’re finding comfort just in his presence.  All he wants to do is help them, and he’s glad that being here is helpful. If they needed some space, Cas would understand that. He would give them as much space as they needed, if they asked for it. He wouldn’t pry, and he would be patient. But he prefers to be here. He’s always been better when he’s within touching distance, when he can feel the reality of a situation between his fingertips, when the earnest look in his eyes can do half of the communication for him. “You can hold on to me for as long as you need, darling.” He promises, “I’ll be here until you get fed up with me.” 

He feels a little bit breathless, at the feeling of the kiss against his knuckles. And then again, at the words that Lazarus puts into the air between them. The wish to be normal, just for a moment. The half-memory of what they were like, before everything changed. He can half imagine them, in that other form. It catches  at his heart like a barb, like a fishing hook, and tugs at something inside him. Something says hey, pay attention, something important is in the air. He touches their hair again, a gentle thing. “I hate him for it.” He says, honest. “I’m glad we could meet, but I hate him for taking everything away from you.” And with his voice, achingly soft. “I can see you like that, you know. Imagine it. You’d make a good brunette.” A soft sigh escapes him, and he averts his eyes, just for a moment. “I wish I could give it back to you, everything he took.” 

[daydreamxrs]

jckylls​:

He shakes his head, again, as Daydreamer keeps making excuses—and he wishes that Daydreamer would accept that none of them had been perfect, but that at least Daydreamer had gotten them out of there, and that’s what mattered. Hell, Hyde had shot Mind Master somehow, the panic and disorientation from Fearmonger’s hallucination enough to make him do something truly stupid, though bringing live ammo into the Tower in the first place had been stupid enough all on his own. If anything, he should have been the one apologizing, on Hyde’s behalf, knowing that Hyde never would.

But it isn’t either of their faults, that the Tower had been a goddamn mess. Not his, not Daydreamer’s, not even Hyde’s. It was a fucked up situation that they’d all been thrown into. And Daydreamer had made the best he could of it, and that was enough.

He thinks about fighting him on that, but before he has the chance, Daydreamer is looking at him with big, earnest eyes and asking how he’s doing, and it seems kind of beside the point to backtrack now and try to argue, so he sights and gives up, taking another sip of his tea while he tries to come up with an answer.

     “I’m… okay, yeah,” he says with a little shrug. “I mean, probably better than I should be, all things considered. I was freaking out, before, about the serum not working, trying to figure out what happened. But Mimic’s been helping with that, and… I figure panicking about the whole thing isn’t really going to get me anywhere.”

     “Funny enough, I’ve always been pretty good at compartmentalizing,” he adds, laughing a little as he makes the joke—but it’s only partly a joke, because he has always been good at compartmentalizing, especially when it comes to not letting his feelings get in the way of getting his work done. 

His eyes track the gentle shrug of Sebastian’s shoulders, the small movement that says so much. Sebastian says hes okay, but Cas isn’t entirely sure he believes him. It’s a strange sensation, because Sebastian is smart enough that Cas usually takes him at his word, takes everything he says on credit, with the blind belief that Seb knows better and is more put together than Cas could ever be. But Cas thinks maybe, just maybe, he was stupid to think that. No one is really all that put together, here in the collective. They’re all messes, and they’re all floundering, and they’re all pretending to be scary and terribly grown up.

He rubs his own palms together, a gentle movement, as he considers it. And he tries for a smile, too, because that’s what Cas always tries for. A warm smile. A gentle look on his face. It’s only fake half the time. It isn’t really fake now, just pushed to the forefront in a way he doesn’t usually push it, mixing with the slightly worried furrow of his brow. 

“I guess I can see why –– why you would freak out.” He tries to imagine it, the feeling of losing control. Of someone else, taking control of your body. The closest he can come is remembering the chilling sensation that something was wrong with him, after that faithful day with Mind Master. The moment where he realised that his life was not fully within his own control, the moment where it felt like someone else had crawled inside of him and twisted things around. Making him not strong enough, not important enough. Mind Master had done everything, now, to take all of that back. But Cas almost kept going there, to the place of doubt, as if it had been trained into him –– existential muscle memory, something he hoped that he would shake off in the weeks to come. 

He huffs out a small laugh, a gentle scrap of a thing. “Yeah, I can see that for you.” And he tilts his head, then, looking. “If you ever don’t want to, though. Compartmentalise. I’m... ugh, this sounds utterly lame. I’m here for you, or whatever.” 

He stops to roll his eyes at himself, for a moment. 

“It’s just that the last time I bottled stuff up too much I took out half a city block, so... I guess the moral of the story is that processing your baggage is important.”

[daydreamxrs]

firebrcnd​:

Cas answers immediately, and he says flickered in a way that makes it sound less like a description and more like a…. like a known phenomenon, like there’s a name for the thing Kaz experienced, and that it’s something Cas has experienced too, before. And somehow that alone is enough to set him already partly at ease. The knowledge that it wasn’t something wrong with. him that made it happen, that this wasn’t some unheard of phenomenon. Cas had felt it too, had felt himself flicker, and probably at the same time that Kaz had felt it. Which means there’s an explanation, at the very least.

And of course Shadow had been right. Of course talking to Cas about it instead of avoiding him, avoiding it, trying to do all of this on his own, had been the right call, the best possible decision, the thing that would set him at ease and move him towards understanding this, towards fixing it. He listens to what Cas has to say, his description of what had happened in the moments Mind Master was back inside of his head, and when he says maybe we’re more linked than I anticipated, Kaz can’t even feel anything but relief about it. If their powers really are connected, then Shadow’s right: they can practice, they can work on this, they can work together and train and figure out what happened, can find ways to draw on one another and boost one another and… he feels a spark of excitement, at the idea, of working with Cas, of the two of them helping one another.

      “Oh,” he replies, a little dumb-stricken by the revelation for a moment. “Well that… that makes sense. That explains it. That’s— that’s good, right? If something about the universe shifting when you got your powers back caused it, that means it was probably just a one time fluke, yeah?” 

He gets up from his chair and shifts over to sit on the couch Cas is on, beside him, legs crossed under him. Nudges him, with his knee, and gives him a hopeful little smile as soon as Cas is looking back at him.

     “That’s a relief, Cas. I was worried I’d done something and fucked it all up. But… hey, if our powers are sort of linked, we can work with that, right?”

Kaz doesn’t seem upset with him, and that feels like a revelation. Cas shouldn’t really be surprised. He doesn’t know why he is, he doesn’t know why he’s getting stuck on that. He’d fucked up, with all of this. He hadn’t been good enough, and Kaz lost their powers during a moment when they probably needed them the most. After weeks of trying with every moment to make Kaz’s powers stick, Cas had failed. It had been corrected the moment he gathered himself, but the proof was there that if he ever stopped trying, all of that power would return to where it was supposed to be. He’d never been angrier at the universe than he was right now, for proving it to him that he couldn’t have everything that he wanted. He got the distinct impression, from the way that the storm twisted inside him, that it was indulging him far more than he gave it credit for. It had let him do this much, after all. It was allowing him to drain himself dry so that he could make Kaz happy. 

He swallows, and gazes at Kaz’s face. The expression that spreads across it. Surprised, but not angry. Cas finds himself nodding his head, a little dumbly, because he can’t bring himself to agree vocally to the one time fluke hypothesis. He can’t bring himself to verbalise the lie, to speak it into the air with the knowledge that it wasn’t true. He’d never really lied to Kaz before, just clouded the truth, kept certain realities away from them. He didn’t bring up everything with Laz to spare their friendship, to make sure his own dramatics wouldn’t get in the way of their lives. But agreeing to this would be a lie. He wishes he hadn’t even nodded. 

But he’d come this far. And he refused to fail Kaz now. He refused to take it all away again. All Cas wanted to do was make him happy, give him what he needed –– give him the things Kaz needed to be willing to stay here, with him, in this family they had cobbled together for themselves.

He pulls himself together, and is already leaning in to Kaz’s space when Kaz comes to sit with him. Mirroring their posture, returning their smile. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He says, a soft and comforting promise. Kaz could never do anything wrong. And he nods his head again, but even more sure this time, and allows his smile to widen. Its half an act, but no smile he ever gives Kaz could be close to ingenuine. “We can work on that. Gosh, you should have told me sooner.” He leans forward, a hand resting on Kaz’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure we can fix anything, if we do it together.” 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

There’s just something about the gentle lull of normalcy that makes it feel possible to be open more easily. If this were a few weeks ago––and hell, it wouldn’t have even been possible to be lying here wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy blanket cuddling while watching shit reruns a few weeks ago, but the point stands––the moment they felt the urge to bring up something so personal and vulnerable, they would’ve quashed that urge completely. It felt easier to bury things down then, somehow, but they’ve realized just how fucked up that made things not just for themself, but for everyone around them. Lying here, though, it feels not just necessary, but easy to broach a subject that would normally have them shutting down and pulling back.

Still, they hate to ruin the soft, quiet mood they’ve got going for tonight, but it feels too important to keep from sharing any longer, even if it’s not something pleasant to think of. That’s the thing, after all, they’re in it together, even in the difficult moments, that’s what they’ve promised each other. And Lazarus is unfortunately really damn certain that there are gonna be a lot of hard moments as they unravel the rest of their history, given the little bit they know now, the bit they need to tell Cas about tonight. As soon as they bring it up, Cas’s attention shifts wholly to them, and they can tell that he’s making the effort to listen carefully, that he’s already concerned about what the memory was, already ready to do what he can to help ease the pain. It makes their heart ache, in a good way, that sort of silent support offered to readily.

“It’s okay, they can’t all be nice ones, all things considered,” Lazarus mutters, letting their eyes flutter closed for a moment with the feeling of Cas’s hand brushing their hair out of their face. It’s a soft touch, gentle as Cas always is with them, something that they’re still in awe of no matter how much they’ve gotten over the past few weeks, and it’s something that bolsters their resolve. His words, too, just make them all the more certain it’s important to talk about this, because he’s right, it might be easier to figure it out if they actually talk through it with him, if they have him to hold their hand through the painful memories and revelations they’re certain are going to come from this. And just as important as figuring everything out is being able to share it with him, this is just another part of what they promised to give each other.

They take a deep breath in, figuring there’s no use in beating around the bush with it, wanting to get it out in the open now, see what Cas thinks about it all, if he might see something they haven’t yet. “It happened twice in the Tower. The first time wasn’t so bad…it was Mordred, there was this strange moment of clarity where they just looked at me, and it was like they recognized me somehow. They mouthed the name Maeve, and for some reason I think it’s connected to that woman I saw in the other memory, the one where I was down in New Orleans,” they explain first, because that part feels easier, even if it makes much less sense than the other part. Lazarus pauses for a second, though, taking Cas’s hand to absently play with his fingers, as much for support as distraction from the rest of it. 

“The second time, though…” Lazarus continues slowly, even as they can feel their own anxiety rising thinking about Clint, “When I had to heal Flame Thrower so that he could walk out of there, I got hit with a memory. I was with him in some coffee shop or something, and he grabbed me by the arm, was leading me out of there. And I just…I fuckin’ knew, Cas. The moment I saw it, I knew that it meant we were together before…I was dating Flame Thrower before I died, and he knows it’s me. And I don’t think it was a good situation, Cas…I actually think it might’ve been royally fucked up, from what Jase has told me about his brother.” There’s panic just beneath the surface, that urge to close off and shut down, the urge to run, but they push through it because this is important.

...

There’s something achingly soft about Lazarus, here and now. The way their voice sounds, the way their eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch of Cas’s hand. The touch seems to sooth them, in some small way, strengthen their resolve and comfort them, set them more at ease with the terrifying reality of sharing these difficult to handle parts of themself. Cas aches for them, and feels a strange sense of pride in them in turn. Lazarus’s life –– Jovi’s life –– must have been a complicated, difficult thing. Laz had seemed sure of that, even before they had remembered much. They saw something in Cas’s own pain that they could appreciate, that they could find a kinship in. Cas had been hurt, a thousand times before, and it seemed clear as day to both of them that Lazarus had been hurt too. 

He watches as Lazarus pulls in a breath, readies themself to share whatever this story is. And his heart is already aching all the more when Lazarus brings up the tower. Cas has been plagued, a little bit, by that night, and the knowledge of how hard it had all been for Lazarus. He’s plagued by his own nightmares, his own fears, and the memory of Lazarus covered in blood. But Lazarus had been the one to go through it all, to be hurt –– and apparently to find peices of themself lost among the fray. Cas listens carefully, nods his head along to the mention of Mordred. That was a name that Cas knew, in the vaguest sense. An old hero, an old villian, a trajectory in life that Cas can distantly identify with. But Mordred had looked Lazarus in the eye and seen something worth stopping for, something recognisable. Mordred looked at Lazarus and mouthed a name, and it was something familiar to Lazarus. The idea of it all makes Cas shiver a little, a minute thing, a phantom feeling. He allows Lazarus to take his hand, to play with his fingers, to take whatever comfort they can find in him.

Cas can tell that the part with Mordred isn’t the one that’s been weighing on Lazarus so heavily. There’s something else, something worse, about to come to the surface. He holds his breath, plays at being patient. And he can feel the tension in the air, the mild anxiety growing in Lazarus when he recounts what happened next, the second time that something clicked for them inside the tower. He shifts his hand to twine their fingers together, to hold Lazarus’s own hand in his grasp, gentle enough that they can pull away if they like. He hates the idea of what Lazarus had to do, giving his life force to someone like Flame Thrower, who had always been an asshole, who had never been worth anything he had. A breath punches out of him, at the revelation. Lazarus and Flame Thrower, in the time before, where Lazarus was still Jovi first and foremost. Lazarus and Flame Thrower, dating. The idea makes him feel sick –– not with a distant jealousy, the kind of thing that might have sprung up if it had been someone else, but with an odd kind of worry.

Lazarus thinks it must have been royally fucked up, and Cas can’t argue against that thought. He didn’t know Flame Thrower very well, but he’d run into the man more than often enough to get the vibe. He’d looked in Jase’s eyes, even if he didn’t have the story. He’d seen the way that Flame Thrower looked at people sometimes, during the odd times when Cas had been in a room with him. The fire in that man was all consuming, and he’d always made Cas feel a little sick. It was one thing for Lazarus and Flame Thrower to have hooked up, it was another for Flame Thrower to have known them before, to have been with them before. To have been with them and never said anything, never told Lazarus anything about their life before they died. There are only a few reasons Cas can think of, why Flame Thrower would keep Lazarus in the dark about that. He shivers again, and squeezes their hand. 

“Oh,” He says, useless, a soft word that punches out of him before he can find just the right thing to say. Only he doesn’t think there is a right thing to say to this, to this weighty revelation. He rememebrs Lazarus’s admission, way back in his own home town, once again. The idea that they had been hurt just as badly as Cas had, once upon a time. And he wants to cry at the thought of that. He can feel the panic growing in them, the fear. Cas shifts a little then, sits up so that he can gather Lazarus against him, so that he can cradle their head and run fingers through their hair. So they don’t have to look in his eyes and see the distant anger he feels, the strange desire to find Clint Courtney and kill him. “I’m sorry, Laz. That’s –– You’re right. That’s royally fucked up.” 

He holds Lazarus for a moment, pushing that flare of anger aside, quashing it down. Because now isn’t the time to focus on dreams of death, of making Flame Thrower pay for every might have been. “He’s never said anything about it.” He says, and it isn’t a question. He knows it must be true. He pulls back, after a moment, presses a feirceky gentle kiss to their forehead before he sits back, so he can look in their eyes again, now that he feels more under control. “I’m sorry.” He says, again, because he is. Sorry on their behalf, angry on their behalf. “That must be hard, to remember that. To not even know all the details, I ––” He shakes his head a little bit, lays his hand on theirs again. “I wish I could fix it all for you.” 

[daydreamxrs]

firebrcnd​:

Cas gives him that look that means Kaz isn’t going to be able to vague his way out of giving a real answer, and then he gives him a look that means he’s not gonna let Kaz stall his way out of it either. And he knows Cas knows exactly what he’s doing, because Kaz can hardly resist either of those looks. And it is something Cas can help with, loathe as Kaz is to admit it. To himself, or to Cas. In fact, Cas might be the only thing that can help with it, the only person with any information for him, because he isn’t going to find the answer to his problem in a book, he’s going to find it by doing what Shadow suggested he do: experiment, see what happens. And, more importantly, maybe acknowledge this his power actually is drawing from the same source Cas’ is. 

     “Okay,” he says slowly, setting the book down again, trying to decide how to phrase this, how to even being. Without making Cas feel overburdened, or… guilty, maybe, or anything else, to be as neutral as possible. And all without lying. Because he knows he can’t lie to Cas. He knows it would eat him up inside, if he did, or that Cas would manage to pull the truth out of him anyway. 

     “Something weird happened with my powers the other day. When Fortune and I were chasing Hourglass. They stopped working for a minute. And… not like when Parasite was around, or when Fearmonger’s nightmare had me convinced that I didn’t have them anymore. This was different. There was no good reason for it. It… might have been bad luck, because I gave most of the luck that I had to Fortune before we went up there,  but I’ve been trying to figure out what happened, so I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Because Fortune had gotten hurt, when it happened. The thing Kaz was most afraid of—not being powerful enough to do his job, to keep the people he was partnered with here, the people who had no choice but to rely on him, safe, to be dependable and reliable when it came to his responsibility out in the field—had happened, with no need for Fearmonger’s influence. He needs to know why, so he can make sure it never happens again. 

A spark of worry ignites in Cas’s stomach, even before any real information has come out of Kaz’s mouth. It’s something about the look in their eyes, he thinks. Something about the way they hold themself, the way that they’re looking at him, the way they’re trying not to look at him. Kaz is being careful, for some reason, weighing the words and seeing how they settle on his tongue. They’ve always been sharp, and good at talking to people. They’ve always had a way with Cas particularly. Kaz could probably convince him to jump off a bridge, if they tried, and they wouldn’t need any superpowers to achieve it. Kaz doesn’t need the power of suggestion to make Cas listen to them and bend to their will –– they just need to love him. 

 When Kaz finally talks, when they finally settle on an explanation of their problem, it hits Cas hard. It’s a devastating idea, a devastating blow. Because that was probably his worst nightmare. Kaz, in a fight, and his powers flickering out because Cas wasn’t good enough, because he wasn’t strong enough and he couldn’t make this fucking warp stick. He tries to keep his face placid, and easy, as he bites the inside of his cheek. Kaz’s powers failed after they split up, after Parasite. When Cas was alone, with a messed up Sebastian and a bleeding Mind Master, and Fearmonger breathing down his neck again, showing him things so horrible that he still dreams about them, still wakes. up at night and has to fight the urge to find Kaz or Lazarus and check them over for injuries.  Kaz’s powers probably failed when Mind Master was in his head, during the brief moment of flickering uncertainty when he looked up at the storm and didn’t feel strong enough to fix any of his problems. 

Guilt claws up his throat, and he has to try and push it away. It takes every ounce of strength not to give in, not to look weak, not to be a crybaby. The idea of anyone getting hurt because he couldn’t keep things running just made him so scared, made him feel like shit, and he was so tired lately that he was worried it would happen again, when Kaz needed it most. 

“You flickered,” He says, finally. “I mean... I feel like I flickered for a second.” He presses his lips together. He’s been busy, lately. And he hasn’t sat down to really talk about all of the specifics with Kaz yet. They went over the basics, of what happened after they split up. They made sure that everyone was okay, that they had both come out of the mess alive. “There was this moment, when Mind Master was in my head, when I felt like I was... I don’t know. But then I broke all of the mental blocks and got my powers back properly. Maybe it was then, that yours failed? Things shifting around in the universe, rebooting for a second while everything got put back where it was supposed to be?” 

He has to swallow around his own guilt, because it all feels like a half truth, and even more so as they go on. “Maybe we’re more linked than I anticipaed.” He says, and he’s amazed that it doesn’t sound like a lie. Because of course they’re linked. He’s felt Kaz like a rope pulling at his guts for weeks now. He’s been working every day to keep this going. 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

late evening, daydreamer and grizzly’s room ( @daydreamxrs​​. )

Nights like these are something entirely new for Lazarus, and something they kind of wouldn’t mind having almost every single night for the rest of their life. It’s nothing special, which is what makes it so meaningful somehow. Just them and Cas lying in his bed, already in pajamas––although they’re likely to lose them at some point before going to bed, they know themself well enough to be sure of that––under one of the ridiculously fuzzy, soft blankets that Cas has, halfway watching old reruns of Kitchen Nightmares, absently talking about whatever comes to mind, the memories that the ridiculous show conjures up, or just silently cuddling. It’s fucking nice, is what it is, something that just feels normal. 

And they’re finding that bits and pieces are coming back to them about their old job catching the pieces of the show they do when they’re not too distracted by Cas, which is most of the time, of course. They remember what the kitchen looked like, they remember being the one doling out orders, taking control of the service. It makes them all the more certain that they’ll be able to cook well when they finally have the time to gather some ingredients and get down to the kitchen to try cooking something out. It still feels distant, like it wasn’t really their life, the same way that the name Jovi still doesn’t feel entirely like theirs, although hearing Cas say it in those private, quiet moments they share is helping it feel more real somehow. 

The thing is, though, that with the few memories coming back, they can’t stop thinking about what happened in the Tower, of that memory, and the memory before then that Mordred seemed to be trying to tell them something about. It’s been on their mind, of course it has, especially after their conversation with Jase and the instinctual realization that came with that one. There’s still so much shit to go through, so much shit to deal with in the grand scheme of things that they haven’t had a chance to dig deeper into who Maeve is in relation to Mordred––hell, they haven’t even had a spare moment to go down to the graveyard and see what Mordred’s real name was to start doing research––and they’ve had even less of a chance to figure out what the fuck they’re supposed to do about Clint and the revelation there, how to figure out more.  

They hate that it’s like this, that even in a moment of peace and quiet, something rare the past few months, their mind refuses to chill the fuck out and relax fully, instead ready to get that anxiety going in full force as it likes to do too damn often. And they don’t want to ruin the mood of the night, the soft coziness that they’re lying it, with Cas tucked against their side, his head resting on their chest so perfectly, an arm curled around him, the silence that’s fallen between them something comfortable and nice for now, but they also know that this honesty thing has been working out for them pretty damn well so far, and tonight shouldn’t be any different.

So Lazarus takes a breath, tries to push past that feeling of anxiety threatening to bubble up thinking about how fucked up the memory they got suggests things were in their before, and swallows hard.

“Hey, Cas?” they start quietly, before they can back out of it. “There’s something I need to tell you about…something that happened at the Tower. A memory that came back to me. One that’s not as nice as cooking in a fancy kitchen. And I haven’t really known what to do with it…”

.

If Cas had tried to imagine a night like this with Lazarus months ago, he would have had to roll his eyes at himself. He would have called himself stupid, and sentimental, too damn soft for his own good. But now he’s fully entrenched in it, the gentle evening that they’re sharing together. In bed, warm and comfortable, under his fuzzy blanket, his head resting on Lazarus’s chest while something as normal as Kitchen Nightmares plays in front of them. He’s only half paying attention to the show, letting the sound wash over him in the moments where they aren’t fully wrapped up in each other. 

On nights like this, it’s easy for Cas to forget everything hard in the world. His endless exhaustion, the way he feels drained dry and run down and sick with worry half the time. Powers spread too thin, in a way that makes him think Mind Master had been right in the first place, in a way that makes him think he really couldn’t do anything. Even if he wanted to so badly it made him ache. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he feels a little bit like he’s falling apart. But when he’s with Lazarus, everything is a little bit lighter, the dark corners in the back of his mind lighten up. It’s easy to focus on them, to feel like they’re the brightest thing in the world, like nothing bad can touch them. So when they aren’t destracting Lazarus with silly lines of thought, or gentle kisses, he just enjoys the warm feeling of resting against them. 

It’s comfortably quiet, and if he isn’t careful he could fall asleep there, with his head against their chest and his fingers tracing delicate patterns over their arm. Thoughtless motions, relishing in the fact that he’s allowed to touch Lazarus as much as he wants, allowed to drag this night out for as long as both of them can stay awake. There’s a thrill to the fact that anything could happen. There’s a thrill to the fact that they’ve evolved into cuddling in sleep clothes. He shifts just a little bit, when he feels Lazarus pull in a deep breath. It feels like they’re building up to something, like they’re about to say something important. So Cas tries to wake himself up a little bit, gathering all of the energy he has so that he can be attentive and open and listen to whatever it is that Lazarus has to say. 

He’s gotten pretty good at recognising when it’s important to listen, open and patient and careful. 

“Yeah?” He says, and his voice still sounds soft, half sleepy. But he shifts his body, still pressed against Lazarus, so he can look up at their face and look them in the eye. His eyes soften, as Lazarus speaks, tells Cas about something that’s clearly been weighing on them since the tower. A memory, and not a particularly good one. He furrows his brow in a slight expression of worry.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a nice one, darling.” He starts with, slow, as he reaches up and brushes a stray strand of their hair away from their face. “It might be easier to figure it out, if you tell me. We can work through it together.” Together still felt like a powerful word for them, something to marvel at. Because he really did believe that they could fix everything, if they put their heads together and supported each other. They had promised to try and build a better life, a better future. And working through Lazarus’s past was almost certainly an important part of that. 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

They wish that they were back at the manor already, that they could share this moment with Cas, and then immediately pull him into a warm shower with them. They can’t help but imagine the feeling of his hands washing their hair gently, the little chill it sends down their spine, how cared for he makes them feel. And they’d like to wash his hair, too, massage away any of the lingering tension brought on from the chaos and danger of tonight, before getting out and changing into clean, cozy clothes, and falling into bed together. But this is enough for now, knowing that there’s still work for them to do before they can go back to the manor and have any of that. Having a moment that feels this intimate, private even in a room full of people, is something they haven’t felt before, after all. None of it is like anything they’ve had before, the sharing of life force, the exchanging of names, how deep that feeling of care goes. More so than all of it, maybe, knowing without even having to put it into words that Cas feels just as much, has felt it longer than Lazarus let themself realize.

There’s a moment of peace they fall into here, holding onto him, keeping him steady and upright, hand brushing through his hair. It feels like there’s no one else around then, that this is their own private world, just for the two of them, and it’s kind of a wonder to have that feeling to sit in. It makes them want to keep him close, but that’s not a new feeling, either, it’s all been here already, they think it was maybe just waiting for the right moment to make itself fully known to them, waiting until they felt comfortable enough not to run away from feeling so much for someone, being ready and willing to put their trust so wholly in someone else’s hands. But they are, and they’re grateful to have that here with him, with Cas. Cas. He tells them not to stop saying it, and they’re glad because they don’t think they could, when it means so much to them, when it sounds like something angelic in the air, brings them comfort they didn’t realize one word could. 

“Good, because I won’t. I’ll never stop saying it. Cas, Cas, Cas,” they hum, a small smile spreading across their lips as they get used to the feeling of his name on their tongue, the taste of it something special. And they can tell that he gets it, that he understands what they’re saying even if they don’t fully get the extent of it themself, maybe, for how foreign it is to feel so much for one person to them. They can see it in his eyes, even before he says the same thing, too, confirms that he’s never felt so much for anyone else, either, when he says that they’re so much more than anyone else. It leaves them a little breathless, makes their heart race to think that he feels that for them, and to know that he’s being honest, an honesty that makes them believe it wholly, believe that it’s possible they could deserve this, and that they could be enough to be what someone as perfect as Cas deserves, too. They’re glad that he kisses them before they can say anything, because they’re pretty sure they’d say something stupid, overwhelmed with so much feeling, head still jumbled from everything. So instead they lean into the gentle kiss, keeping it soft as Cas does, memorizing the slow tenderness of it, something utterly beautiful. When he pulls back, they just look at each other for a moment, and they think there’s so much there in that silence that both of them know.

“I’ll help you feel better later. I know you’d give me as much as I need, and I’d give you just as much back, always, too,”  they say, brushing their fingers back through his hair, despite themself. They wish they could go get cleaned up now, wash the blood off of their hands, out of their hair, off of their face, so that they could touch him properly like they want to, a compulsion they have no intention of not following through on, especially as he squeezes their hand, and brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to their knuckles. They feel a little like a damn school girl, with the way it makes their heart flutter, makes the heat rise up the back of their neck for how tender the kiss is. 

“You’ll never have to let me go, Cas. It won’t take long for me to take care of the zombies, make sure they’re all given that peace again. I’ll find you as soon as I’m done. We’ll head back to the manor, I’ll get myself cleaned up as fast as possible, so we can get into bed, and rest,” they say, voice soft. And they can’t help but lean forward and punctuate that with another little kiss, something light and chaste, but with that deep care behind it still. They don’t have the words to say it yet, what this feeling is in the center of their chest, an unimaginable warmth that comes with thinking about Cas, with kissing him, with knowing that after this, they’ll be able to fall asleep together with their arms around him, but they think that it’s pretty damn clear for the time being. They can make it a little clearer, though, before they have to head back to their mission. “I promise I won’t be long. I wanna be with you every night, if that wasn’t clear already.”

.

Every time Lazarus says his name, it feels more right. It feels like a hook, clawing into his heart, making sure that he’ll never want to pull away from Lazarus. It feels so different, somehow, than when anybody else says his name. Maybe it’s because for some reason, they withheld these things from each other over the scope of their relationship. Daydreamer was stronger, in his head, and better equipped to deal with everything. Being called Cas made him feel softer and more vulnerable, so far from the benevolent God he liked to pretend he could be. Cas was just a man, after all, and one who loved too deeply and too quickly. It was easy to give that kind of thing to someone like Kaz, who had basically adopted him from the first moment that they met each other. But him and Lazarus used to hold so much back, used to keep a distance even when they were pressed so closely together. 

Giving Lazarus his name felt a lot like giving them his heart. And he was glad to do it, glad to let it be theirs. He would never get all of it back, he knew that. Even if they fell apart, even if this didn’t end up working, part of him would always belong to Lazarus. To Jovi. And that thought was a curl of pleasure in the back of his mind. He had part of them too. He had their name, a tiny scrap of their past, and the power to make them like it just that little bit more, the power to make them feel like Jovi was someone real, made of flesh, the same skin as them. And he has these feelings too, the ones that Lazarus is skirting around. The mutual admission that their affections for each other go above nad beyond every other feeling that they’ve ever had. 

He’s never felt this way. And it should shake him.

But right now, it only makes him feel more certain. More devoted. More determined to do his best, to not fuck this up, to prove to Lazarus that he is someone they could be happy with, someone they can trust. Cas wants this to work so badly, but he knows it’s not something he can wish for. It’s an honest emotion that he has to keep admitting every day, the slow build of trust. And Lazarus is doing the same for him. It can’t be one sided, they have to fight for each other. And they are. Lazarus promised him, all those weeks ago, to try. And now they’ve come so far, it feels like the entire landscape of their lives has changed. He could have never imagined that being with Lazarus, really being with them, would feel so good, feel so right. Maybe it was foolish, maybe he should have known that no feeling would be able to beat this. They’ve always been drawn to each other, like a gravitational pull, like the draw of a higher power. 

“I know you would.” He says, voice whisper soft. Because he trusts that Lazarus will sooth away every ache in his body, will take away every hurt. Even just being with them now makes any pain feel secondary. He relishes in the feeling of their fingers in his hair, the soft touch of a lover, the kind of thing that makes him feel weak in the knees every time he’s given it. “You always take care of me.” And that was a little raw, a little wonderous. Because it was true. Lazarus indulged far too many flights of fancy, sentemental notions, ever whim. When Cas wanted to pamper them, he was allowed. When Cas wanted to kiss them for hours, they would induge that. Being allowed to take care of Lazarus, sometimes, made Cas feel more safe and more cared for and more valued than he would have with anybody else. 

He offers them a small smile, a sweet and hopeful thing. And even though his body feels exhausted, the world honey-slow, he nods his head. “I like the sound of that.” He hums, softly, and returns their kiss with an aching gentleness. He reaches up, indulgent, and touches their cheek. He feels heavy with fondness, with affection, with a hunger for the night to be done so they can really follow through on the promise. He doesn’t think he;’ll find any rest until Lazarus is back again, safe in his arms. He wants to curl into their chest, bury his face in the crook of their neck. He wants to fall asleep safe in their arms. But he gives them what he hopes is a reassuring, comforting look, and takes a slow step back, letting his hand fall away from their cheek. He has to break the contact, he knows, or he’ll never let Lazarus go. “I’ll leave the light on for you. Just don’t keep me waiting too long, Jovi.” 

[daydreamxrs]

firebrcnd​:

Cas looks exhausted; Kaz can see that, as he moves into the room, drops down onto the couch across from him. He sounds fine—sounds happy, he really does, and he’s sounded that happy pretty much every time they’ve talked since Cas told him that he and Lazarus had made up—but there’s a strained look around his eyes, a tension in his jaw, that can’t be explained by any lack of sleep that Lazarus might be responsible for. And Kaz’s chest aches for a second with guilt, at the thought of even bringing up something like training, something like his worry about his powers, when Cas looks so tired already.

Maybe, he reasons, it’s an after-effect of Mind Master having removed the blocks he’d set up to limit Cas’ powers. Maybe having the ability, once again, to change anything in the world at a whim is just tiring. But… no, that doesn’t seem right. Cas being tired always seemed to be a sign that he as pushing up against the limits Mind Master had set for him. And Kaz hadn’t know him before those limits were set, but he can’t imagine that Cas looked this tired before, can’t imagine why he would have wanted his powers back if all they had ever done was wear him out like this. 

     “Nerd shit?” he replies, scoffing and raising his eyebrows at Cas as he does, even though Cas can’t see him, leaning back on the couch like he is. “Rude. It’s very distinguished intellectual work, thank you very much.” 

He picks the book back up, for something to do with his hands, flips through a few pages. The room is filled with books about the history of super powers, scientific theories as to how and why they came about, why they manifest—and, of course, no answers. It’s a question the world seems to have stopped trying to answer, some time ago, either seeing no point in understanding it, or realizing that clear answers would just never really be possible, with the sheer scope of possibility. 

This one had had a promising-looking chapter about reality warping, but everything in it sounded so different to what he knows of Cas’ powers as to feel utterly useless in giving him any real answers about his own powers, and what might have been happening to them, how closely tied to Cas’ they might be.

     “Just doing some reading, is all,” he answers eventually, because he knows Cas won’t let him get away with avoiding the question altogether. “Shadow asked me something the other day that I’ve been trying to find an answer too, but no luck.” 

Cas always relaxes a little bit more in Kaz’s presence than he would on his own. It’s like some sort of switch flips in his brain that tells him it’s okay to get loose, to shake off some of the baggage. Kaz means safety, and love, and family. So he sinks back into the couch and lets himself close his eyes, just for a moment. He could fall asleep there if he wasn’t careful, like a child insisting he wasn’t sleepy and didn’t need to go to bed. But he knows that Kaz would pull a blanket over him and it would all be alright. 

He quirks a tiny smile, at the sound of the scoff in Kaz’s voice. Nerd shit was probably unfair. Especially given how much time Cas used to spend in this room actually attempting to read real nerd shit, to understand the things that Sebastian was trying to teach him. But it’s pretty much his job to tease Kaz, to rib at them gently. That’s pretty much what he’s picked up, as a baby brother responsibility, since they started feeling this way about each other. So he lets out a soft hum, nods his head very seriously. “Of course, highly intellectual. I shouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He rests a hand on his own chest. “Personally, I was hoping that Jay had finally stocked the shelves with the babysitters club like I asked.”

It’s clear that it’s something, though. Something that Kaz is really working on, something that they’re really thinking about. Something really important. And Cas wants to know, wants to be able to help them with it. So he shifts his body, looks at Kaz across the room, still cozy on the couch, but showing much more attention to him. His gaze is light, but unflinching. He knows that Kaz will open up, if he looks long enough. 

And they do open up. They’re working on something because The Shadow Man asked. Cas wrinkles his nose, and feels a swell of curiosity. He wipes a hand over his face, rubs away some of the sleepy aura that had been creeping in once he got comfortable. “Is it anything I can help with? What exactly are you looking for, in all these old dusty books?”

Cas arches an eyebrow, waiting. And after a split second, his usual impatience creeps through, slightly teasing. “Come on, two heads is better than one, right?”

[daydreamxrs]

jckylls​:

He takes a sip of the tea—still hot, despite the minutes he kept Daydreamer waiting there, and passively he wonders if Daydreamer has been keeping it hot, warping the universe quietly to keep the tea at a perfectly drinkable temperature until Sebastian was ready to take a sip, and he thinks it might be a little bit unbearable if that’s the case, if Daydreamer is expending any energy on something so small and thoughtful just for him—as he listens to Daydreamer talk, rolls his eyes a little at the over-sharing when it comes to his and Lazarus’ love life, and then frowns when Daydreamer starts to apologize.

       “No, no— Daydreamer, you have no reason to apologize,” he replies, tripping over his words a little bit in his rush to answer. Because it’s a stupid thing to apologize for. No one, he’s sure—and certainly not him—is blaming Daydreamer for having not stopped any of it before it happened. That would be like blaming him for Dr Judgement and Hourglass attacking the Tower in the first place. Kind of preposterous, and totally out of line. That Daydreamer had stopped Fearmonger at all, and not just dragged him and Mind Master out of the Tower and away from Fearmonger’s influence, had been above and beyond what anyone could have expected of him. That he managed to get access to his powers back, on top of all of that, and keep Mind Master from dying, and keep Sebastian from completely decompensating… it was nothing short of a miracle, and Sebastian isn’t someone who believes in miracles. 

He watches for a moment, at the way Daydreamer’s sitting, hands cupped around the mug of tea he’s holding, frowning a little himself, his posture having shifted, from the assumed confidence he came in with. And Sebastian thinks about Daydreamer’s confession, months ago, about how self-conscious he’d been, how desperate for approval. And he thinks it’s a shame; he knows he misjudged Daydreamer himself, at the start, but he didn’t realize just how thoroughly misjudged Daydreamer has clearly been by so many of the people he’s met in his life. It’s a shame that Daydreamer can work so hard, can do so much for the people around him, and still think so little of himself. 

     “You were amazing, you know that? I’m not exaggerating, I mean that. None of us stood a chance against Fearmonger, and sure, the whole thing was kind of a mess. But that’s not your fault. And you stopped it before it got a whole lot worse.” 

The moment he and Nightingale had shown up had been such a huge relief, after Fortune left Sebastian kneeling on the floor trying to stabilize a dying Mind Master while the whole world shifted in and out of nightmare mode around him. All he’d done was sit there like a useless chump and let the two of them take care of it all. He never would have made it out of there in time, if it hadn’t been for Daydreamer. 

There’s a small swell of affection, of satisfaction, as he watches Sebastian take a sip of his tea. It’s the small flush of joy as he watches someone take a gift he’s given them, a happy flush that means he’s taking care of someone, someone that he could really care about if they had the time to grow together and get to know each other better. It’s something that soothes the ache in his chest, the ragged disappointment where he feels like he failed Sebastian over and over again. It battles against the feeling that swells in him the moment that he sees Sebastian start to frown.

Sebastian doesn’t take his apology, he fights against it instead and turns it down. He trips over himself as he tells Cas that he shouldn’t be sorry for it, and Cas can see the real earnest belief in him, the fact that he means what he says. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel like he did enough, like he was good enough when they were in the tower. It had been Kaz after all, who made it possible for him to do anything but cower in the face of his own fears. Kaz had been the one with enough control of his power to make Cas listen to him. And that control had meant they both got through the rest of the mission relatively intact. He never would have been able to save anybody without them.

But Sebastian thinks he did enough. Sebastian thought that he was amazing. But he thought that Sebastian was amazing too, this man who had been stuck in a situation he never should have been, who had managed to get out of it. Cas had felt like his heart was breaking when he saw Sebastian there in the tower, hands covered in blood, doing his best to hold on to everything that was happening around him.

“I should have been able to do it faster.” He says, because he really thinks so. So many people would have and he knows it. If Dulce et Decorum had been there, or Zenith, or the Shadow Man. “And taken better care of you all, after.”

He should have checked in on Sebastian the second they got out of the tower, he should have found him and made sure that the other man was okay. That felt like his responsibility, as seemingly the only one of that team who had gotten out of the tower without completely falling apart, or being hurt. A few bruises seemed like nothing compared to everyone else’s real trauma be real damage. He swallows a little, and looks up at Sebastian with warm eyes, soft. “Are you okay?” He asks, finally, like he should have before. “After everything, it can’t have been easy.”

[daydreamxrs]

firebrcnd​:

    one of the libraries in the Manor, afternoon, a few days after talking to Shadow, @daydreamxrs​

He’s been thinking about what happened at the Tower, about the way his powers had refused to work at the worst possible moment. And he’s been thinking about what Shadow asked, about whether or not he and Cas had spent any time experimenting with the ways their powers might affect one another, if they were drawing from the same source. He knows it’s a good idea, to test it out, to see if it’s possible that the reason his powers hadn’t worked was because maybe he had tried to call upon them at exactly the same time when Cas was dealing with Fearmonger, or something like that. But the fact that it’s a good idea doesn’t make the possibility that his powers are nothing but an extension of Cas’ sit any better, with him, than they had a few days ago, no matter how much he’s been trying to get himself used to the idea of it. 

It doesn’t matter, in the long run. He has them, and that’s what matters. And he owes it to his teammates, to everyone, to do what he can to understand how they work, including their limitations. But he’s been avoiding asking Cas about it, because of it, still trying to work his way up to the idea. Which hasn’t been difficult, with how much time Cas has been spending wrapped up in Lazarus, an absence that is impossible to hold against him, knowing how much it means to him.

So he’s trying… other avenues. Which, today, involves flipping through one of the Collective’s expansive libraries doing research, even though it hasn’t gotten him anywhere. The universe must be telling him something, he thinks, when he closes yet another useless book, looks up, and sees Cas arrive in the doorway at that exact moment. Something like: just talk to him, you absolute twat.

     “Cas,” he greets him warmly, running his hand through his hair for a second before shoving the abandoned book to the side. “I’m surprised to see you out of your room. Did you and Lazarus finally decide you needed to come up for air?” 

.

Cas isn’t sure why he’s always liked the library so much. The relative quiet, the comfortable spots, the books that he didn’t really have all that much of an interest in reading. The library was a kind of safe space, where nothing painful could touch him. Even the tensest moments he could manage to have with Lazarus would never be able to sully the place for him. He’s yearning for the quiet now, because in all honesty, Cas feels like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He’d expected, rather delusionally, that everything wrong with his life would be fixed when he got his powers back in full, when there were no walls in his head and no voices in his hear telling him he would never be good enough. 

He’d been wrong, though. As his powers grew, so did the exhaustion. As he pushed himself to do more, control more, regain his former glory, he only felt like he was running himself into the dirt. He felt a little like he was drowning. And when he managed to come up for air, the pull and the drain and the tug on his power pushed his head back under water. He’s exhausted, now, as he makes his way to the library, a perfect quiet place. He wants to pull a blanket over himself and curl up on a couch, and pretend like he’s engrossed in one of the random books he could pull off of the shelves.

But it’s almost like thinking of his own problems has summoned Kaz. Kaz, who he talked to about everything. Kaz, who he couldn’t really talk to about this. Not when he had begged the universe to give them power and the universe had humoured them for a moment, not when he was fighting at every second to keep that connection going, when part of his mind always had to be on Kaz and their power of suggestion. Still, he can’t be disappointed that Kaz is there. He’d never be anything but genuinely happy to see them, and that’s the look that comes across in their smile, in the slight slumping of their shoulders when they greet him. 

He rolls his eyes, playful, even as he’s lowering himself onto the sofa. “You know, you’re like the third person to make that joke this week.” He says, but his voice is light, because he can’t actually talk about Lazarus without feeling the warm flush of affection in his chest, the feeling of being cherished and cared for and accepted. Lazarus wasn’t quite everything to Cas, but they were everything that wasn’t Kaz, and that made them one of the biggest and most important things he would ever get his hands on. “We were fucking like bunnies before they discovered emotional availibility. No one can blame me for doubling down.” 

And he shifts back, lets his head fall back against the couch.

“What are you doing, anyway? Looks like nerd shit.” 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

It’s never been like this before, in all of the times they’ve taken from someone else, or even the times they’ve given. It’s never felt nearly this intimate before, this personal. It’s always been a thing of necessity, something that they had to do for one reason or another, because of obligation or because they needed it to keep going. They don’t really know if anything else will ever compare now, and they’re not mad about it in the least. That’s the thing about Cas, they’ve realized, somehow he just keeps giving them things they hadn’t even been aware they were missing. The gentleness, the tenderness, the acceptance and willingness to give them time. And now a sort of intimacy they hadn’t really considered could come from their powers, but now that they’ve felt it they don’t know how it’s not something they ever thought of, even when they considered how serious the power of life and death is. Because being willing to give someone a bit of your life to heal them is pretty fucking huge in their eyes. 

And they get it, because they’d do the same for him, too, would be happy to take any pain they had to if it meant that he could feel less of it. Which they will, later, once they deal with a few zombies, feels well enough to handle giving up more without falling on their ass. They think that’s a pretty damn good analogy for all of this, a give and take, something they hadn’t really let themself do before now, everything a little too selfish. The kiss they share says as much, or at least they try to put that feeling into it, that emotion behind it.

It sounds different when he says it, sounds much more like a name, their name, than a weird, foreign word that they honestly think might be a little too ridiculous to be their real given name. He says it sounds beautiful, and they’re inclined to believe him, because that’s what they give each other honesty, so if he says it’s beautiful, that he likes it, that it suits them, then it must. They feel that newly familiar tightness in their throat springing up again, and it feels dumb to be so damn emotional over names, but it feels important in a way they can’t really put into words. Cas sharing his, a name he chose himself, a name that gave him the freedom to be who he is, and Lazarus giving theirs, too, a name that doesn’t feel entirely their own, but means fucking everything after five years of knowing nothing about themself. 

They hold him up when he pulls them into another hug. It’s gentle, full of so much care they can hardly handle it. It’s easy to forgot for a moment that there are dozens of people around, that there’s so much going on still, still things they need to do before the night ends, when they have their arms around Cas. “You think so?” they ask quietly, with a grin, hand moving to his hair, stroking gently. They pull back just enough to be able to look at him, to see all of that emotion behind his eyes, to know just how deeply that care runs between them, even deeper than they think they fully realized. It’s kind of a revelation, this whole night, in a dozen different ways. “It sounds better when you say it. Feels more like maybe I could be Jovi. Thank you…for everything, Cas. Cas. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop saying it. I’ve…never really felt so much for someone else, even before I think.”

There’s a compulsion here to tell him everything about what they experienced in the Tower immediately, but they don’t want to taint this moment with any of that right away. This moment is about them, together. It feels like they’ve inevitably taken a step forward in things just now, without planning it, just something to come naturally between them, sharing life force, sharing names, making it clear suddenly just how deep things run between them. Because it’s true, they don’t think they’ve ever felt this way about anyone before. They certainly didn’t feel this way about Matteo, and they know on nothing more than a feeling in their gut that they didn’t feel this way about Clint in the before, that strange thing they still don’t fully understand after the memory hit them. It makes them all the more grateful for Cas, for all he’s given them, that he was willing to let them try again, to go through the difficult moments hand in hand, find a way through. It makes them want to give just as much back. 

“How do you feel?” they ask, after a moment, hand moving to his forehead, brushing the hair back there, touch full of tenderness. “I hope I didn’t take too much.”

...

Cas is still reeling from the weight of the word on his tongue. It’s such a simple thing, just a word. But names will always be more than that, more than the scatters that build them up and make them into sounds. And Lazarus’s name feels intimate, when it comes out of his mouth. It feels like a prayer, it feels holy, it feels like a gift. It’s another way to know them, another facet of their identity that Cas gets to tuck away in the back of his mind, gets to cherish for as long as he’s allowed to. Jovi. He really meant it when he said that it was the most beautiful thing that he had ever heard. It should have been an exaggeration, it should have been something silly to say. But he hasn’t been able to fuck with Lazarus with more than light, mindless teasing, over the last few weeks. 

It feels like Lazarus is the whole world, right now. Which might be the addrenaline crash talking, which might be how exhausted he is, even with the thrumb of his power loosened up and ready to serve him whenever he needs it. It still hasn’t settled, still doesn’t feel quite right. He can still feel Kaz feeding off it, the split where his power is focusing on one of his other-halves. Maybe it will settle with time. He’s praying it will settle with time. But right now, he doesn’t worry, because Lazarus lets him pull them into a hug and holds him close, holds him steady. He knows that at some point he’s going to have to let Lazarus go, that they’re going to need to go and help with everything that’s going on. The sooner the zombies they brought out get put back in the ground, the better it is for everyone. Especially for people like Medusa, whose long lost loves need to be returned to their resting places. He doesn’t know how she’s managed all of this, because if it had been Lazarus, if his role had been swapped with hers... he probably would have lost his mind. He probably would have blown up again. He probably would have killed anyone who saw fit to do this. But he’s lucky, because Lazarus is right here, alive and well. He knows he’s going to have to let them go soon, but he doesn’t have to do it yet, they’re allowed to linger in this moment for as long as it might take until they feel prepared to let each other go. 

And at the end of the night, he might get lucky, and Lazarus will come back to him and hold him close again. He thinks that would be nice, to be able to clean them up and get into bed with them, fall asleep in the safe and steady embrace of their arms. They have good arms, strong and sure. “I think so,” He says, a soft agreement, letting his eyes slip closed in something like bliss, when Lazarus runs a hand through his hair. Every touch feels like a blessing, and it has for ages now. He wonders if that will ever calm down for him, if being touched by Lazarus will ever stop being notable, will ever be ordinary, something he takes for granted. He doubts it. He doesn’t think they’ll ever stop being so special to him. And he’s blinking his eye open again, just when Lazarus pulls away to look at him. He meets their gaze and smiles a little bit, a shakey and emotional thing, something full of all the affection that won’t stop swelling in his chest. 

“Don’t stop saying it,” He half demands. “I like the way you say it.” They really shouldn’t be able to keep taking his breath away, but their words leave him breathless, floundering with the intensity of the emotions in his chest, with the slightly faster beating of his own heart that sounds like drums in the back of his head. Lazarus, admitting that they feel something for him, something so much better than he really deserves. More than they’ve ever felt for anyone. It’s shockingly intense for him, even without some kind of lofty declaration, even without specific words. And he’s so grateful he could cry, because they feel the same way. Cas has never felt like this about anyone. He thought he loved people, in the past. He thought he knew what it felt like, but if that was supposed to be love, he doesn’t know what this would be. This feeling, so much more intense than anything else. “I’ve never felt like this before either. Not with anyone, not with –– You’re so much more than everyone else.” He leans forward, to ghost a gentle kiss over their lips, just a soft shadow of a thing. He lets it linger, but he doesn’t push for more than the kiss, doesn’t deepen it, because there’s so much going on right now. It’s better to get lost in a slow lingering kiss that put more of himself out there, right now. If he had allowed himself to keep talking, he probably would have said too much. They might be embracing the weight of their emotions, but he can’t throw words like love around at a time like this. 

That word deserves a better place, and he shouldn’t feel even a hint of hesitation when the time comes. And he knows, with utter certainty, that the time will come. Someday, not now, but sooner than he ever would have expected. He lingers for a moment, before he pulls away, before he looks at them and tries to soak up the look on their face, right now. He tries to commit them to memory.

“I feel kinda like crap,” He says, in answer to their question. He could have lied, but he likes the honesty thing he has going with Lazarus, he doesn’t want to sully himself with a half truth. But he’s steady as he says it, looking into their eyes, leaning into the touch of their hand on his forehead. “But I felt like crap before too. You didn’t take too much, I promise. I –– I’d give you as much as you needed, any time, always.” He squeezes their hand, holds it, brings it up to press a kiss to their knuckles. “I know you have to go, soon. But will you... will you find me after, when you’re done? I want to be with you, tonight. I don’t want to have to let you go.” 

[daydreamxrs]

jckylls​:

He starts to reply, as Daydreamer explains his presence, excuses it, half ready to say no, don’t apologize or it’s good to see you or glad I was the better option than “bored and lonely,” because he really doesn’t mind the company, and he really has been meaning to seek out Daydreamer for the past few days. But then Daydreamer mentions him being covered in blood and Sebastian realizes, all of a sudden, what a pain in the ass he probably was, for Daydreamer, having to fix everything and drag him out of the Tower like a mother cat carrying a kitten by the scruff of its neck. And so the words that come out take on a different tone, apologetic and a little pathetic, and he winces a little at the sound of them,

     “Yeah, I… sorry, about that. I’m sure getting out of there would have been a lot easier with Hyde instead of having to deal with me. I don’t really know what happened.” 

That’s not entirely true, he thinks, as he finishes up setting the test he needs to run, moving swiftly through the last few steps so that he can be a little less rude and actually turn his full attention to the conversation at hand. He remembers bits of what happened before Daydreamer showed up, fits and starts of it, flickers of memory, fading in and out. A woman—Lynx—bleeding on the floor at his feet, and then nothing, and then Mind Master falling to the ground. Looking at his hands and seeing blood.

That’s not the part of the memory that matters, though. What he really remembers is the nightmare Fearmonger was clearly drawing on. The alleyway. Waking up there, with no idea how he got there, looking down to find blood on his hands. A gunfight going on around him that he had no part in, no way of handling. It had been the second time he woke up from Hyde taking over, the second time ever. After the first one, he hadn’t been sure he’d ever wake up again; the second time, he had no idea how much of the serum he needed to take, and no idea how long he needed to handle whatever shit Hyde had gotten them into. And he’d guessed wrong, realized for the first time the full extend of what Hyde was capable of—and how absolutely useless he was, in Hyde’s place. 

He finishes up what he’s doing, and then, finally, looks up at Daydreamer, the mug of tea he’s offering him, and he accepts it with a nod.

     “Thanks, though. For getting me out of there. Sorry, I should have come and found you earlier, but I figured you and Lazarus would be busy.” 

Daydreamer feels like he fumbles more often than not, when he’s talking to Sebastian. They have road blocks, and insecurities, and he hasn’t spent enough time with Seb to know when he’s about to put his foot fully in his mouth. He thinks hes done that now, because Sebastian is wincing and he sounds a little bit miserable, sounds like he’s still beating himself up over something that wasn’t even his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong, in the Tower. He’d just been caught in a bad situation. But it makes Daydreamer ache a little bit, all of it, because he’s the one who should be beating himself up about it all, he was the one who should have been stronger and more competent and just better, strong enough to break out of his own mental blocks and not waste anybodies time, fucking around with dream visions and emotional quests of self discovery. 

He should have wiped Fearmonger out the second that he stepped foot in the building, the second he realised who was responsible for what was going to happen. 

“Easy and Hyde aren’t words that I usually pair together,” He says, his voice a little bit softer than normal. He likes Hyde, well enough. They have an easy banter they fall into, when they do see each other. Daydreamer is the kind of delusional person who wants everyone to be his friend, no matter how rarely they hang out. He wants to be adored, he wants to be cherished as a person. He wants to belong here, in this house of villains. But when it comes down to it, Sebastian is really more his kind of person. Softer, in the ways that Daydreamer is prone to adoring himself. So smart that it means that Daydreamer is in awe of him.

He swallows at the thought of it, cradles his own cup of tea in the palms of his hand. He lets the warmth seep into his body, and chases away any thoughts that might bring him down. He’s not here for his own selfish reasons. He’s here for Sebastian. Because he thinks Sebastian could use a friend right now, and that’s something that Daydreamer is able to offer him. He manages a smile, a real one, when Sebastian finishes what he’s doing and finally diverts his attention toward Daydreamer and the tea. Daydreamer watches his hands as he goes to take it, and tries not to remember them covered in blood, the handprints he had to warp out of his costume after three turns through the laundry. He should really have picked a different colour for his outfit.

“Oh, we’ve been plenty busy. The honeymoon period is pretty intense, you know. Way more intense than the casual fucking period.” He nods, as if he’s said something sage and wise. “I, um. I’d been wanting to track you down too, though. To say that I’m sorry for not getting us all out of the Tower faster. I got… A little overwhelmed, I guess. By it all.” Overwhelmed was putting it lightly, but he thinks its fair by itself as well. They all got a little overwhelmed, up there. And he’s grateful that he’ll never have to go up against Fearmonger again.

[daydreamxrs]

jckylls​:

He’s running tests, on the most recent batch of the serum, using up one of the few remaining vials he has of it to try to figure out what the fuck went wrong in the Tower. Despite Mimic’s conviction that what happened was purely psychological, he’s hoping that he just did something wrong, that there’s a human error element to what happened that he can fix, protect against, ensure it never happens again. That the batch of serum was bad, and that’s why he found himself waking up on the top floor of Guardian Tower with a gun in his hands.

It’s scientifically responsible, to test every possibility, instead of just accepting the answer that makes the most sense. That’s what he’s telling himself. That’s what he’ll tell Mimic, if Mimic asks. 

His hands are full, when Cas greets him from the door, and he can’t exactly put what he’s holding down immediately, seeing as he’s halfway through pouring a solution from one beaker into another, but he thinks Cas will understand. Instead of coming over and grabbing the door for him, Sebastian just looks up.

     “No, no, I’m not busy. I mean, I am busy. Sorry, my hands are full. But come in. I’ll put this down in a minute, and then I’ll have a few minutes.”

He’s surprised, to see Cas. They haven’t had one of their science lessons in months, and after he’d basically followed Cas around like a lost puppy dog mid-panic attack after they got out of the Tower, he was pretty sure that Cas would want nothing to do with him. And that would be fine. Cas had already been far too kind for him, taking on the burden of dealing with Fearmonger, Mind Master, and getting Sebastian out of the Tower when Hyde had suddenly been unable to do any of those things. 

Sebastian seems a little bit frazzled, when he notices that Cas is there. And Cas can’t blame him for that, with everything that’s been going on lately. The general aura of the manor has been leaning toward frazzled for a long time now, and no one has escaped that, no one has really been able to pull away from the way that the world is falling apart around them. But that’s all the more reason for Cas to come and talk to him, all the more reason to make sure that Sebastian isn’t falling apart over what happened at the tower.

Cas would hate it, if Sebastian was blaming himself for anything that happened. He would hate it, because Sebastian hadn’t done anything wrong, Sebastian wasn’t even supposed to really be there. It should have been Hyde facing off against the monsters, Sebastian never should have had to face any of that. Cas greets him with a smile, even  as he’s looking up. Sebastian doesn’t come and help him with the door, but Cas doesn’t blame him for that either, not when his arms are literally full of probably very important science. 

He does arch and eyebrow, however, at the mixed answer that he gets from the man in front of him. Sebastian is busy, but Cas is releived that it doesn’t mean he needs to fuck off and leave him alone to do his work in peace. Carrying hot tea all the way to the lab and then back again would have actually been annoying to do. So he nods along, happily, and delicately walks in to the room. He finds some relatively clear space, near where he usually settles down to sit for their science classes, and places their mugs there. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You should take your time.” He says, and his voice is light and friendly. He feels like its important to be chill, when Sebastian might be feeling skittsh, when he himself feels like he was such an utter failure the last time that they saw each other.  “I probably should have given you some kind of warning, before I sprung tea time with Daydreamer on you. But I was bored, and kind of lonely, and I thought –– hey, haven’t seen Sebastian not covered in blood in a while, that might be nice.” 

And he sits down, folds his hands together. Ready to wait patiently for Sebastian to finish whatever science he was doing. 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

There’s an amount of trust here that they can’t remember ever experiencing, a trust that they’re putting in Daydreamer, a trust that he’s giving back to them, by offering up something that will hurt him, no matter which way they swing it. It nearly takes their breath away, really, when they consider it more deeply, because every part of this is so utterly unlike anything they’ve ever had that they hardly know what to do with it. It also makes them realize just how deep their feelings for him go, far beyond maybe even what they’ve been letting themself think since Indiana, since admitting so much, and resolving to try to be better for them both. It makes them want to find a way to show him, too, when he’s so clearly showing them how deeply his care for them goes, offering up so much, offering to sustain them a little while longer, until they can do what they need to do. 

He nods in agreement to their conditions, and they resolve to do exactly what they’ve said, to give him back life forced tenfold once they have a chance to send the zombies they’ve managed to wrangle back to their graves. They’ll do all they can to help him feel warm, and taken care of, as much at peace as any of them can feel after seeing and dealing with so much in the Tower. That’s something to hold onto, that they know they can return it all tenfold when the time comes. The meaning of it all is hard for them to put into words, never the most eloquent of people, but they think that Daydreamer clearly senses it too, just from how he looks up at them. 

Before they start, Daydreamer seems to be weighing something else out, and when he finally speaks, offering something else, just one syllable, and it takes them a second to realize he’s giving his name, as he tightens his grip. And they feel an overwhelming warmth, an overwhelming certainty, along with amazement at what he’s giving them, so much so simply. It’s a little teasing, the way he says it, that they should probably be calling him Cas if he’s going to share his life force with them, but there’s so much weight to it, so much meaning there that they can hardly fathom it. Their mind keeps saying it over and over again, Cas, like something holy, like a prayer, really, something they want to hold onto forever, something they’ll take comfort in, find solace in during those difficult moments. It might be the most beautiful name they’ve ever heard, and that doesn’t really feel like an exaggeration in this moment, this moment that already felt so intimate with the offer of life being given. 

“Cas,” they repeat quietly, with a sort of awe and reverence that their voice rarely takes on. There’s an intimacy to that that they think will mirror sharing life force, something they want to remember desperately. They give his hand another squeeze, almost like they’re shaking his hand, although their fingers are intertwined, and the grip is too tight already, prepared for what comes next. “It’s a perfect name. Nice to finally meet you.”

And they lean forward, press their forehead to his and close their eyes, as they very slowly start to take from him, just a little by little, careful, paying attention to his reactions, even as they have their eyes closed. They can feel their own pain easing just so, like a soothing coolness is washing over those wounds, the one from Mordred, and the one from healing Flame Thrower. And it sends a chill through them, knowing this is Cas’s life force healing them, that he’s giving them life, keeping them standing, taking their pain away, of his own accord. When he starts to lean a little more of his weight on them, they decide it’s more than enough, not wanting to cause him any more pain than necessary to keep them both standing. And they do feel better, so much better. They’re well aware a significant part of that has nothing to do with the healing––they can still feel their wounds, although they’re nowhere near as bad as they were––but everything to do with Cas, with his name, with him offering his life to them. 

They can’t heal him again yet, but they can give him something else. Leaning forward, they bring their lips together in a soft, tender kiss, full of all of the emotion they can’t figure out how to put into words just now. When they pull back, they stay close, then moving to press a gentle kiss to the back of Cas’s hand, reverent, grateful. “Jovi,” they breathe, before they can even consider what they’re doing, a little overwhelmed with it all, the burst of energy from taking the life force from him and the meaning behind it all, what he’s given them, sharing his name, all of it, nearly enough to knock them back down on their ass. “My name’s Jovi, my real name. I only found out recently. Grizzly told me, I haven’t told anyone else yet. But maybe it’ll feel more real, if I hear you say it, too, Cas. Maybe it’ll feel like me.”

...

It shouldn’t be that big a deal, to hear Lazarus say his name. It isn’t as if he’s overly deprived of it. There are more than a few people in the manor who use it on occasion. Kaz defaults to it fairly often, because they’ve always been closer than most people here, because they’ve always trusted each other with the dark corners of each others lives, with the soft and squishy parts of themselves that might get hurt. But it’s different, to hear it come from Lazarus, wrapped softly in the sound of their voice. When all he’s been yearning for lately is to be as close to them as possible, to wrap himself up in the, to crawl under their skin and find himself safe and at home there. Lazarus says his name, and it means so much more than anyone could have expected. Lazarus says his name, and it feels far too much like coming home. They sound like they’re in awe of him, as if the word itself is a prayer or a psalm. 

Lazarus says its perfect, and Cas believes them, Cas smiles, delicate and slow. He wraps the feeling of it around himself, and knows that it will be worth whatever pain comes when Lazarus takes some life from him. “I picked it myself.” He says, a whisper, half-vulnerable, half-joke. Becoming him was the best magic trick he had ever done, the best thing the universe had ever allowed him to do. A way to claim his life for himself, and it was something that no one could take away from him, no matter what they tried.

He lets out a soft sound, at the feeling of Lazarus’s lips against his forehead. A blessing, before they begin to take the life from him. The pain, the burn, the loud thrum of it through his body. Lazarus healing, delicately slow. It hurts like hell, even more than he had really been prepared for. But it’s a comfort to know that with every second of pain, Lazarus is starting to feel better, that for them it’s all being washed away. And he thinks the universe would give him endless life force, if it meant that he could do this for Lazarus, he thinks that they could extend this for as long as they needed. He can’t help but feel like he’s doing something right with his life, even as his breath gets caught up in the swell of hurt. He can tell, even through it all, that Lazarus is being gentle with him. They’re not taking too much, they’re not abusing the power that Cas has give them over him. Even though they probably know he would let them do anything, let them take anything and everything that they needed. Their hand is careful, the swell of their power doesn’t consume the whole of him. 

And they’re paying careful attention, that much is clear. Because the moment that Cas starts to lean on them too heavily, he can feel them pulling back. He would give them more, he would extend it for another while, if it meant that Lazarus would be healed more fully. But he knows that they would never go for that, their hesitance to hurt him being far too strong a force to face against. And this is the best of both worlds, he imagines. They’ll be strong enough to do whatever needs to be done tonight, to right the wrongs that have been plaguing some of the Collective since the Morrigan raised the dead. There are people who are counting on Lazarus now, and Cas has done all that he can do to help, save for stay there by their side while they go through it all, while they fight to fix the things that they can.

Cas is letting out a shaky breath, looking up at Lazarus. And even as he opens his mouth to say something, to check if Lazarus is okay, they’re leaning in and kissing him. Being kissed by Lazarus will never stop feeling magical, Cas thinks. He’ll never get over it. It’s soft, and tender, and full of emotion in a way that’s just a little bit alien with them. More intense, even in it’s gentleness. He doesn’t know how Lazarus keeps finding ways to surprise him, to make him feel like the luckiest person to ever walk this earth. Yet here they are, doing just that, over and over again. 

“Jovi.” He breathes, and now it’s his turn to sound worshipful. It’s the most beautiful word he’s ever heard. Because it belongs to them. It’s their name, something that Grizzly had thankfully been able to give them, after so long fo not knowing. And he aches for them, the way it doesn’t quite feel like theirs. But it feels right, when Cas says it. Jovi, like a prayer. It feels familiar in a strange way, like he’s heard it before, like it’s the only thing he should ever be calling Lazarus. “It’s beautiful.” He says, and it sounds... like he could drown in how much he cares, for them. 

He smiles, and it feels like a delicate thing, and then he shifts close again, to pull them into another hug. It isn’t too tight, not forceful. Just a gentle thing. “I like it, I––” He could say so much, about how much he cares, about how important Lazarus is to him. But those things can stay unspoken. Laz knows enough. Jovi knows enough. They have to know that Cas wouldn’t be standing here, if love didn’t keep piling itself up in his chest, waiting to be showered down on them. “I think it suits you. Jovi.”  

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

They’re already looking head to that later, ready to skip forward to when they’re back at the manor, safe, maybe they can take a shower together, change into clean, soft pajamas, before getting into bed and just holding each other. It’s not going to be an easy night, and they have a feeling that if they both do manage to find sleep, it’s not going to be peaceful, but that’s the thing. They won’t be alone. They’ll be there to hold onto Daydreamer, to offer all the comfort they can, keep him close, listen if he wants, distract if he wants, do whatever it is they can to help make things feel a little less of a hot mess when he does let himself get there later on.

The mention of Flame Thrower only seems to double his determination to offer that healing. And that’s something they get well, the anger that comes with just hearing his name. It’s something they knew was there, but maybe had been more content to look past over the years because of what they got from him, but that’s the thing. They didn’t get anything fair. It was always unbalanced without them even knowing it, since he knew them before, was with them before, and held all of that back from them. It makes them feel sick to their stomach to think of it, now that some of the adrenaline is dying and they’re talking to Daydreamer, the way he’s used them, the way he tried to recruit them, keep them under his thumb, all without telling them he knew who they were before. And maybe that’s part of what makes them pause, what makes them consider Daydreamer’s offer more seriously instead of just denying it outright.

He makes it clear that the offer isn’t something he’s giving lightly, but something he means entirely, something full of care, and tenderness. It’s not something you offer to just anyone, after all, giving life force to heal them. It’s the sort of deep devotion that they can hardly fathom, especially standing in such stark contrast to moments earlier Clint demanding they give him their life force, with that familiar possessive gaze of his. This is so utterly unlike anything they can remember having, and they think maybe unlike anything they had before in the times they don’t remember, too, considering they were apparently with Clint for at least a while before they died. 

And they don’t want to hurt him, they never want to be the cause of his pain again, physical or mental, but this is a gift he’s offering them, and they believe him when he says it hurts more to know they’re in pain, because they know they’d feel the same seeing him in the sort of pain they’re in now. Hell, they do feel that now, they wish they could take the emotional anguish of having faced down his trauma away. 

The frown doesn’t leave their face, but they nod slowly, accepting what he’s offering slowly themself, already planning how to take just enough that they’ll be able to keep going without keeling over, but without hurting Daydreamer unnecessarily. They haven’t done anything like that before, but they know for him they can manage it, to be able to accept what he wants to give, but doing it in a way that feels safer.

“Okay…but just enough to get me by until I can deal with the zombies, alright?” Lazarus says, seriously, wanting to make it clear how they’ll do it. “If you’re still in pain after I take from the zombies, I’ll give it back to you tenfold, heal any hurt you have. And if it hurts too much when I’m doing it, you have to tell me, and I’ll stop immediately. Okay, Daydreamer?”

They bring their hand up, still holding onto his, and take a breath, preparing, something about this feeling infinitely different than any other time they’ve done the same. “Just hold my hand.”

.

Even as he’s doubling down on the offer, it amazes him. Because he means it, every single thing he says to Lazarus about this. He wants to share everything he has with them, wants to give them everything that they need to make sure that they can get through the night. He’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life. But this is important, it feels important. Daydreamer is full up on devotion, and it’s spilling out of it, the half-accepted love that he’s going to need to process at some point. But that point doesn’t have to be now, not when he’s looking up at Lazarus with imploring eyes, begging them to take him up on this offer, to reach out and take as much of his life as they can stomach. 

The idea of sustaining them is one that sticks in his mind, something intense that he has to swallow around, where it sticks in his chest. His life, healing their hurts, keeping them going. Being able to transfer as much as they needed, being willing to do it. He would give Lazarus anything that they asked for, but the thing is they’re not asking –– Lazarus hasn’t asked them for anything, hasn’t pushed, hasn’t taken from him what he wasn’t freely offering up. It only made him want to give it more, only made him want to lay his whole life down in front of Lazarus. He wants them to know that he would give them anything. He wants them to feel cared for, cherished, because he doesn’t think they’ve had that enough in their life. 

He believes it, that Lazarus doesn’t want to hurt him. They’ve proven that over the last few weeks, since they started trying at this again. And with every creeping day Daydreamer had become more certain that Lazarus wasn’t going to turn tail and run away from him, wasn’t going to make him feel the sting of that rejection. Since Indiana, Lazarus has been willing to hold him close and let him bask in their presence. It makes him wonder if Lazarus will turn him down, will draw the line here in the sand, refuse to go any further. Daydreamer couldn’t blame him for that, for not wanting to take life away from someone he had promised to never hurt. But it’s a stark relief, when Lazarus nods their head instead, a tentative agreement to the pleading look in Daydreamer’s eyes. 

He lets out a soft sigh of releif, nodding his head in return. He would agree to any terms that Lazarus set, that he had always known. And knowing him, he probably wouldn’t fight them later if they were really determined to give it back, all the life that they were going to take from him. He nods his head, because he doesn’t need to repeat their words. He hopes they’ll know that he agrees to it all, that he’s willing to do whatever they need here. But there is something that his mind settles on, a desperate want of his own, something he feels like he needs to give up before the life can come out of him.

He wants Lazarus to know him. Know his name. He wants that to be the word on their lips, right now. An added layer of intimacy, something that they’ve somehow held away from one another in the last few weeks. Maybe it was because he could only really call Lazarus just that, aside from the pet names that had started slipping in to his vocabulary. But he’s been Daydreamer, the whole time. He wants to be more than that. He wants to be the soft, open person he felt like he was sometimes. The real person that wanted Lazarus so badly he could barely breathe sometimes.

“Cas,” He says, half breathless, even as he’s tightening his grip on Lazarus’s hand. It’s a request, a little shakey, like he’s asking for it instead of telling Lazarus what to do. He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a desperately intimate thing, but there’s no denying that’s what it was. Names had weight, after all, and it felt more signifigant than it ever had before to share his own. “If you’re gonna share my life-force, you should probably call me Cas.” 

He does what he’s told, then, and holds on tightly to Lazarus’s hand when they start to draw the life force out of him. Lazarus hadn’t been lying, when they said that it would hurt. He barely holds in the gasp that wants to escape, when he first starts to feel the burning pain of the injuries bleeding over into him. It’s sickeningly intense, the burning pain in his shoulder, feeling like it’s cutting him open. The sting of damage in his leg. But he doesn’t regret it, even as the pain settles in. It hurts, but the hurt is mixed with something that feels worthwhile. It’s a hurt that’s sustaining Lazarus, and that makes it kind of beautiful. Makes it one of the most beautiful things he’s ever done, probably. So he stomachs it, and leans a little more of his weight on Lazarus after a moment.

[daydreamxrs]

mindxxmaster​:

He prays that Cas is strong enough, now that he’s taken away the persuasions he’d put in place all those years ago. He was the one that put up the barrier, but it felt important to let Cas be the one to tear it down, letting his confidence grow back to the heights it had once reached before he had to crush them down. 

He lets out a long sigh of relief once the rain begins pelting down upon them, the storm that had once been caged now free and ready to be used however Cas pleased. Cas should be able to take down Fearmonger easily now, or anyone else for that matter who stood in his way. 

With Cas’s powers back to their original strength, there’s nothing else to do but to return them back to reality, and the nightmare that awaited them in the Tower. 

“You ready?” He asks, and once he gets confirmation, he reaches is hand out to rest on Cas’s shoulder, and pulls the two of them out of the depths of Cas’s mind. 

When he opens his eyes, the pain has returned tenfold, but he grits through it as he looks over to where Cas was. There are still a million things he wants to say to him, but with the fire growing in his lungs and the still pressing situation at hand, he simply gives his hand a small squeeze before letting it go to let him finally take down the fear manipulator that was still roaming the halls. 

[daydreamxrs]

lazarusdoe​:

Despite the mess that they are, Daydreamer keeps hold of them, curls his fingers into their drenched costume, blood still managing to do a number on the leather despite everything. And it makes their heart swell with warmth, because that small gesture alone, the fact that he immediately hugged them, wants to keep them close, tells them not to be sorry, brushes their bloody hair back off of their face, well, it feels like it just confirms everything that they were already certain of. How big this is, how deeply things run between them. Maybe it’s stupid, that him being so willing to touch them despite being covered in blood feels like such a big thing, but maybe they’re also used to be either possessed entirely as an object, or completely unwanted, something a little disgusting sometimes, because of their own zombie shit. 

Maybe it means a hell of a lot to them in this moment, and beyond it, when they had thought maybe they wouldn’t make it, when they had been terrified that something might happen to Daydreamer, that he’s here with them, and he keeps confirming over and over again that his care isn’t conditional, or fleeting, or superficial in the least. They’re realizing they need more reassurance than they maybe consciously knew, and he gives it to them without even having to ask.

His own laugh brings them back to reality, but maybe they’re a little starry-eyed with it, being back with him, the adrenaline still pumping clearly, even though some of its worn off for how much pain they’re in, knowing they’re going to need to start taking care of that soon, that it might even be smart to take a little from someone preemptively so they can stay awake long enough to get to their first zombie they need to send back to their peace.

“Just because I look like a hot mess doesn’t mean you can’t be one, too,” they say, looking at him pointedly, because they can hear the emotion in his voice, too, something they’re very much feeling, too. And they have to think he probably is, at least a little, when he describes what he and Hyde faced; Fearmonger. Hearing it went badly enough that Hyde shot Mind Master is enough of a picture of what happened, but the mention of reliving trauma makes them frown even deeper. They can only imagine what he must’ve had to face, how difficult it must have been to come face to face with his worst fears, and come out on the other side.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Lazarus mutters, frowning. This time they do give in, and brush a knuckle over his cheek, the blood caked on their hands mercifully dry already. “Mordred got me with their fuckin’ moonbeam sword pretty bad, then I had to heal fuckin’ Flame Thrower so he could walk his ass out of here, but…”

They shake their head as he starts to say it, so shocked by what he’s offering that they think they’re hearing him wrong at first. Because it’s not something that they’re offered very often. They do it without asking sometimes, of course, just for little things like stubbed toes and burned tongues, but any of the times they’ve needed it on a bigger scale, they’ve been the one to ask, and those times were few and far between. This is…well, they can hardly even comprehend it, Daydreamer offering to give them some of his life force. It stands in an even starker contrast considering the way Clint had taken from them so easily, insisted on it, just fifteen minutes ago or so. It feels all the more meaningful, knowing what they know now, knowing that they had been with him, and now here they are with Daydreamer, the opposite in every way, even though he has every reason not to be.

Even if they don’t accept what he’s offering, it means so much that he would even offer, that they can’t even figure out how to answer for a second, can’t figure out how to put it all into words. “Are you…I mean, yeah, I can do it, but you don’t know what you’re offering,” Lazarus shakes their head, squeezing his hand lighting. “It’s, uh, when I take from someone else, it hurts them. I never want to hurt you. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and I don’t want to go back on that promise. But thank you. I don’t know how to put into words how much it means that you’d offer.”

.

“I’ll be a hot mess later, I promise.” He says, voice still thick with the feeling of it, the emotions weighing on him. Because he’s self aware enough to know that it’s true. He probably will be a mess, at some point. He’s not delusional enough to think it won’t affect him, won’t lead to some of the nightmares that he mostly outgrew a long time ago. It’s sweet, he thinks, in his over-exhausted brain, that Lazarus is looking at him like that. The pointed reminder that he’s allowed tof all apart if he needs to. The reminder that they can both be kind of a mess, and get through it anyway. They can hold each other up. One of them doesn’t have to be the strongest, doesn’t have to be the rock. Cas wouldn’t mind it though, being a rock for Lazarus. Because right now, Lazarus feels like the most important thing. 

His eyes soften, looking up at Lazarus, as they brush knuckles over his cheek. Their hands are caked in blood, but its dry enough that it doesn’t come off against Cas’s skin. It’s a gentle touch, it makes Cas feel cared for, feel cherished, and the frown on their face does want to make him crumble a little bit. Because Lazarus cares about him, really cares. He swallows around the heavy emotions, tucks this feeling away for later, for the next time he ever doubts that what they have between them is the real deal, for the next time he gets scared that Lazarus will grow tired of him and push him away again. 

He furrows his brow in worry, when Lazarus tells him more about what he faced inside the tower. He could tell just from looking at them that it must have been hard, must have been one of the more harrowing fights faced by anyone who walked inside that building. But the words they speak add new layers to it. Cas knows a little about Mordred, vague stuff, the kind of things you pick up if you have any interest in the history of superheroes and supervillians. Mordred and his moonbeam sword, of course, hurting Lazarus and added to the pain that they must have been feeling, to the horror of whatever Ramses has inflicted on them and Night Hunter. 

And there’s a burst fo anger in his chest, as well. Not directed at Lazarus, of course. But at Flame Thrower. Fucking Flame Thrower. Cas didn’t have a real reason to hate that guy so much, aside from the vague knowledge that he was a creep. Flame Thrower hadn’t liked him, when he was the one that was soaking up all of Darren’s attention. And he’d been obviously a dick the rest of the time too. Cas can’t help imagining him there, in the Tower, and Lazarus wasting that precious life force of theirs on healing someone like Clint. He just didn’t seem like someone who was worth it. But Cas was prone to think more highly of Lazarus than anyone right now. And he wanetd Lazarus to be alive, wanted them not to be hurt. He wanted them to take care of themself instead of someone has obnoxious as Flame Thrower. 

Lazarus starts to shake their head at his offer, and it makes Cas frown. It’s a gentle downturn of his lips, still imploring, still hoping that Lazarus will take him up on the offer. If Lazarus wants to say no, Cas won’t be able to force them. But he’s got more than enough life force for the two of them, and he’s willing to hand it over at a moment’s notice. He’s willing to give Lazarus anything and everything that they could ever need. It’s a tender thought. And it makes him have to confront the uncomfortable reality of his own feelings. The boundless devotion he keeps feeling for Lazarus, almost against his own will. He’s always known that he was the kind of boy who fell too hard too fast, but that hasn’t been something he wanted to think about. Loving people meant that they could hurt you even more badly when they left, when they realised that you weren’t worth the pain. But he cares so much about Lazarus that he’s willing to go through whatever pain something like this would cause. 

“I know what I’m offering, Laz.” He says, voice achingly gentle. He swallows, and looks up at them. He meets their eyes, to show that he isn’t scared, that he isn’t questioning his own offer, that he isn’t going to take it off. 

“I ––” He takes a breath, as well, because it feels big to say it. “Please, take it. Take as much as you need. I don’t care if it hurts.” A squeeze of their hand. “It hurts so much more to know you’re in pain and no be able to do anything about it.” And that was true, because he wasn’t sure that he could stand watching while Lazarus hurt, watching while they figured out some other way to heal themself. “Please, trust me. I want to give it to you.”