You planning to become a bus driver? [ faith smirks. castiel was weird. is weird. he's weirder than the usual weird, and faith's so used to that word. she'd befriended the mayor, found a father figure in him, only to see him turn into a giant worm that her friends had turned to guts. weird. so what if her best friend was an angel? and a fallen one at that, too. she'd found the weird to be normal and the utterly normal to be fucking weird these days. ]
[ but castiel has never taken her teasing him, especially about the things he's not very good at, well. he's so easy to poke and prod and get a rise out of. and, sometimes, faith enjoys doing it; other times, she wishes he was harder, less likely to chase after something in red as if he were a bull. he's so damn sensitive; she wonders if it's an angel thing. ]
[ faith sighs, though. castiel is exhausting in the best sort of way. he's not as exhausting as andrew and his stories, or buffy and her need to have her ass kicked to her in a way that asserts her dominance and superiority. he's exhausting because he's sometimes like a child; she's always treated him as though he knows best, because he always has, but it's the minor things, like not knowing how to work a clock or the microwave or anything else that she takes for granted, that she finds herself getting a little caught up in. she doesn't have time for it. she never has time for anything. she can't live, she can't be, she has to run and fight and slay. castiel is only exhausting because he reminds her of the things she's missing out on; those things people take for granted. ]
You can't learn how to drive a car by reading, Cas. You gotta do it.
[ she ignores his question. they're familiar to a point where faith really doesn't give a shit anymore. who cares if he sees her half-dressed? who cares if he walks in on her in the shower? while he needs to learn how to knock and read social cues, it's gotten to a point where faith likes it when someone intrudes on her. it reminds her that she's seen, that she's here, and that she's not exactly alone. ]
no subject
[ but castiel has never taken her teasing him, especially about the things he's not very good at, well. he's so easy to poke and prod and get a rise out of. and, sometimes, faith enjoys doing it; other times, she wishes he was harder, less likely to chase after something in red as if he were a bull. he's so damn sensitive; she wonders if it's an angel thing. ]
[ faith sighs, though. castiel is exhausting in the best sort of way. he's not as exhausting as andrew and his stories, or buffy and her need to have her ass kicked to her in a way that asserts her dominance and superiority. he's exhausting because he's sometimes like a child; she's always treated him as though he knows best, because he always has, but it's the minor things, like not knowing how to work a clock or the microwave or anything else that she takes for granted, that she finds herself getting a little caught up in. she doesn't have time for it. she never has time for anything. she can't live, she can't be, she has to run and fight and slay. castiel is only exhausting because he reminds her of the things she's missing out on; those things people take for granted. ]
You can't learn how to drive a car by reading, Cas. You gotta do it.
[ she ignores his question. they're familiar to a point where faith really doesn't give a shit anymore. who cares if he sees her half-dressed? who cares if he walks in on her in the shower? while he needs to learn how to knock and read social cues, it's gotten to a point where faith likes it when someone intrudes on her. it reminds her that she's seen, that she's here, and that she's not exactly alone. ]