dear_mun | On the mun's designs for character development

[ Laughing. Oh Dean. ]

I'm, uh, going to talk about feelings now. Just so you know.

[Blink blink. Eyebrow raise. Fine, feelings. . . . you're not saying anything.]

Okay, feelings. [Slightly impatient nod, and a handwave.] Go.

She wants me to embark on a romantic—and I assume sexual, given commonly held notions of "romance" [ Finger quotes. Can you tell that he finds this a ridiculous subject? Because he finds this a ridiculous subject. ]—relationship with you.

[ Pause. ]

So there's that.

[Oh, hey, fingerquotes. On romance. He'll glance at your fingers, then back at your face, eyebrows still raised. Your writer wants you to hook up with him. And you don't want to. Because— ]

You think I'm unable? To have a— [Fine, fingerquotes. Mock-fingerquotes.] —"romantic" relationship with you?

[ Staring at you. Yep. That's basically it. ]

Or unwilling. [ Looking away. ] It doesn't really make a difference. [ But "unwilling" feels slightly more personal and he'd like to avoid as much as possible making this be personal. ]

[Narrowing his eyes at you. If you are who he thinks you are—or rather, from when he thinks you are—he thinks he gets how you'd come to that conclusion. But you've never laid it out for him like that before.]

How'd you figure that?

[ Grinning. How does he figure that? ] Uh. Well. [ They don't have one. So that's a dumb question, Dean. ]

Anecdotal evidence suggests that we're better off as—[ what?He laughs. ]—you know, I don't know. Co-workers? Professional working relationship? Where you go, so I go. I don't know.

[You don't know. Yeah. He's got some anecdotal evidence of his own, and it disproves your claim. But he's not enough of a jerk to tell you about that without easing you into it.]

You're from 2014, right? Apocalypse, end of days, all of that. [Lucifer riding around in Sam's body. It's not really a question, so he'll continue.] Have we met yet? 2009-me, that is.

[ These are more stupid questions. But they're not meant to be answered so he lets them be. Yes, he's from 2014. Obviously. And has met you. ]

Twice. [ He knew you living through 2009, and then met the past version of you, thanks to Zachariah. Do you have a point, Dean? You're usually better at getting to the point. ]

[Twice. Right, yes. But you're still living in 2014. Which means you're going to die within the next few days. Maybe the next few hours. And then you're going to travel back in time to meet him, and God. This is giving him a headache.]

How does this place work? [Looking around.] If I tell you what happens in your future, will that mess it up? [Uncertain look for you. He's not been in the multiverse that often yet. He doesn't want to fuck anything up by talking to you. You're the angel, or ex-angel. Do you know how this works?]

[ Looking around. ] The multiverse? [ Shrug. He has no clue. ] Destiny is being unable to change the future. [ So telling him doesn't seem like it's going to affect anything one way or another. ] Lucifer wins. The world ends.

[ Sigh. Such a waste. He looks back at you. ] I know my future, Dean. [ He'll die. And then there will be nothing. Oblivion. He's accepted this. ]

Mhm. Yeah. [He nods. That'll happen. Destiny will still be fulfilled, in your world. He frowns at you, then decides that he's going to take a chance and assume that information shared in the multiverse won't impact their life in Milwaukee. It makes sense that it wouldn't, considering he's not aware that he's fictional, back home.]

[So he digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before tossing it to you.] I'm from early 2015. Took this a couple of weeks ago. [His phone wallpaper. It's a picture of you. His you. You're not wearing a shirt, and you've got a blue and pink ribbon stuck in your hair. It was a birthday thing.]

[ Phone. Right. He catches it. Squints at the background and smooths his thumb over the screen. It's him but it's not him. No picture like this exists in the world. Not his world. ]

I don't understand. [ Why does he have a bow in his hair? Why would you keep a picture of him on your phone? ] If there was no Apocalypse, I wouldn't have met you.

[ And you're different. He can tell that you're different. So he must be different. Only through a very conscious act of will power can he read the being in the picture as himself. Envy is such an unpleasant sensation. He holds the phone out back to you. ]

How did you stop it? [ The Apocalypse. Never mind them. That picture is disturbing. The Apocalypse—isn't less disturbing, but at least far more familiar. ]

[No, Cas. That's you. You you. Except Dean supposes that's not self-explanatory. He takes the phone back and pockets it.]

Zachariah showed me your future. Figured I'd better keep a close eye on Sammy. [And there's still a sting to those words, because happily ever after or not, Sam's still locked in the cage. He shrugs a little and looks off to the side.] So the world didn't end. Everyone still died, though. [He licks his lips and looks back.] Including you.

[He realizes that that raises more question than it provides answers, but he needs to take a breath before he tells the rest of the story. And maybe give you a moment to digest that his world didn't end.]

You changed it. [ Interesting. He rubs at his chin. That's—good. Surprising, maybe, but then, you're Dean. You change things. You move mountains. ]

Everyone—in the world? [ How are you defining "everyone", Dean?

And how are you defining a few weeks? If you have a picture of him—and maybe quite a lot changed, if you started in 2009 and you keep a picture of him on your phone with a thing in his hair—and he died, then his death must have been recent. ] I'm sorry. For your loss.

[He glances up at that. No, man. Shakes his head.] Not everyone in the world. The world's fine. More or less. [Save a bunch of natural disasters that he doesn't like thinking about.] Just—you. And Sam. Guess it's not everyone. Enough as far as I'm concerned.

[He looks down at his feet.] That was in May 2010. You showed up two years later. [Looking up.] And I mean you you. 2014 you. You still died in your world. And then you—I dunno. Reality-jumped, or something.

[He shrugs. He doesn't have an explanation. He just knows that it happened, because he was there for it. Gives you a slight, lop-sided smile.] Guy on the phone, that's you.

[ Not everyone in the world. Then why would you say "everyone", Dean? Everyone means everyone. That's irritating. And—strange. You just associated him with Sam. He's nothing like Sam. He's a very effective weapon that is no longer effective except to a very slight degree. To be anything else—someone you keep a picture of, a private picture, a humorous picture—is weird.

And then you continue. He reality jumps. That makes him laugh. A lot. Breathlessly. Helplessly. ] Man. Talk about a mindfuck. [ He runs his fingers over his mouth and glances up at you, still chuckling. ] I'm not, uh—that's not me.

[ The guy on the phone. It's just not. He shakes his head and shrugs a shoulder. Sorry. But no. His sanity is dubious at best. Emotions are impossible to understand. He's not going here. He has a war to fight. ]

[Not that weird, is it? Isn't that what they started this conversation about? He is not unable, Cas. But he knows that tone, that expression, the way you're laughing, so he'll just give you a lop-sided smile and a one-shoulder shrug.]

2015, remember? And you double back to 2012. The guy on the phone is not the guy who called me from a gas station in Louisville, Kentucky three years ago. [That guy was more like you. Pretty much exactly like you.]

[ . . . no. He looks away and grins, wide. He understands what you're saying but no. No. It's all just. No. ]

So—what? We. . . [ Chuckling. What? They get to be together? Happily ever after? What? Man, that just fucking hurts to think about. Hope fucking hurts, Dean. It sobers him up. ] You're a jackass.

[ Regardless if you're telling him the truth or not. That you would tell him at all. He's nowhere near drunk-and/or-high enough for this. ]

Why? [ Why would you tell him? Why would you be with him? Why then and not now? Why is it different? Why do humans have these kinds of relationships? Why did you turn him into this? ] I tried—I tried to say goodbye to you, years ago. [ In the green room. Why didn't you let him? ]

[Oh, he's a jackass. For telling you that death isn't the end for you, for telling you that he's not unable. Fine. He'd forgotten how this works, with you straight from 2014, having had no time to adjust. He crosses his arms and frowns, narrows his eyes at your last statement.]

No, you didn't. [You never tried to say goodbye to him. When did you try to say goodbye to him? You never left. You're the first person in his life who never left. He would have let you go if you had, because that's what he does. So no, Cas. You didn't.]

[ Oh no. You do not get to pull that shit with him. He'll get right up in your space and shove you. And keep shoving you, closing in on your space again and again. Don't poke the junkie ex-angel, Dean; he hasn't been entirely de-clawed. ]

Yes I did. Before it started. I served Heaven. Not you.

[ Shove. ]

You're just one man. Afraid. Guilty. In pain.

[ Shove. ]

I thought you were beautiful. All that pain but your soul was still beautiful.

[ Shove. ]

You said it was worth it. All that pain. It was worth it. It's not worth it, Dean. It sucks! [ Trying to stop Heaven. Falling. Loving you. It's not worth it. It just hurts. ] It fucking—[ His breath hitches, comes out broken. ]—sucks.

[ And now he's having emotions and he doesn't understand them. Emotions are stupid. This is why you're a jackass. He glares at you. ]

[Oh hey woah. Okay. He'll let you do that, he'll let you shove him, will push back just enough to prevent falling, because man. Man, Cas. He'd forgotten. Three years, and he'd forgotten already. He's sorry. But not sorry enough not to eventually reach up and grab your wrist, try to hold on to one shoulder to stop you advancing on him.]

Cas!

[It sucks. Yeah, man, he knows. He knows that it sucks. It's still worth it. He still believes it's worth it. He tries to catch your eyes, grabs your shoulder harder. Looks back, not a glare, not angry, but no less intense.] You've told me you don't regret it. You have, 2014 you. You've told me— [He licks his lips, bites his lower one as he tries to find the words.] We couldn't have done it without you. I couldn't have done it without you. I—we still have burgers. And—fruit loops. And you've got a bike that you love, and it's worth it, Cas. I know it sucks, and I know how much more it sucks for you because you didn't use to have to deal with this crap. But it's worth it.

[Believe him. Please. He doesn't know how much sense he's making. He's guessing not a whole lot. But you gotta believe him, because he knows he's the one who did this to you, and you shouldn't hurt like this. That's not why he told you. So please. Believe him.]

[ Yeah, sure, fine. Hang onto him. He's pretty unstable as it is. He'd like something to hang onto him, to anchor him in place, and you're, well. You're always the top choice, whether it's a good idea or not. There's many forms of addiction, after all. He stares at you, listens to you. Overwhelmed. Desperate. Emotions suck.

He told you he didn't regret it? Well. ] Then I lied.

[ That's it, Dean. That's all he can tell you. He sucks in a deep breath. ]

I regret—everything. [ You. Him. The world. Everything. ] You think fruit loops makes that worth it? [ His face splits into a grin for a second. They're fucking fruit loops, Dean. It's absurd. All of this is just absurd.

He sets a palm against your chest, just to reach out. Just to touch, if you're touching him. Stares at it, his hand—Jimmy's hand—against your shirt. Goes quiet. ] It's not—why do you keep a picture of me on your phone?

[ You don't love him, Dean. You're not in love with him. You don't want that or you can't do that. One or the other, it doesn't matter. ] You're—unable. [ He meets your eyes. Please. Do you understand that? Unable to love him is acceptable. Unwilling is personal. He doesn't want it to be personal. ]

[Yeah, emotions suck. Watching you have them is never fun. Right now, it's making him have emotions, it's making his chest clench up and his throat grow tight. When you tell him you lied, he flinches. Don't say that, Cas. Don't put that on him, please. Except of course you have the right, it's what he signed up for when he dragged you down from Heaven to fight alongside him. It makes him want to pull back, makes him want to leave and find his Cas, who won't tell him he hates him for what Dean did to him. But of course he won't leave. You've got a right to say all of that to him, you've got a right to feel that way about him. And it's his job to listen. It's the least he can do.]

[He doesn't say anything when you go quiet, just watches you. Glances down as you put a hand against his chest, then looks back up to meet your eyes. He's unable. Yeah. He was when you knew him.]

When I— [His voice catches, so he clears his throat. Tries again.] After Lawrence. After the final showdown in Lawrence. May 2010. [He takes a deep breath. Steady, man. He's talked about this before, he can do so now.] I got out of hunting. With Sam gone, and you gone, I just— [He shrugs.] I ended up in Milwaukee. I was on my own for two years before you showed up, and even then— [He swallows as he remembers, finds your eyes again.] It didn't work. I was too messed up, you were too messed up. Unable. Both of us. [He shrugs again.] So you left for a while. Eighteen months. Got back about a year ago. And then it was just normal life, you know? No apocalypse, not even any spirits or ghouls or werewolves. We had time to work it out. So—now I've got a picture of you on my phone. [He meets your eyes.] Because we worked it out.

[Does that make sense? That's all he's got. If that doesn't make sense, he doesn't know what else to tell you.]

[ You stopped hunting. You have a normal life. With him, and then they worked it out. No Apocalypse. And fruit loops. It's not anything he's ever thought about but he wants it. He wants it and his breath catches tight in his lungs around a shaky, gasping laugh. His head bows forward, leaning into the hand on your chest. ]

I am not—[ Breathe, man. Shit. No laughing. ]—unable.

[ He's not. He does love you. He's capable of it. ]

On the mun's designs for character development

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