fic: Today You Were Far Away
Apr. 10th, 2010 04:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityToday You Were Far Away
Sam/Castiel (with a little vague hint to Sam/Dean because duh otp)
1051 words
written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
folkhore because.
You just walked away / and I just watched you / What could I say
As much as he's worried about Dean, this wracking, bone-deep worry that he can feel coursing through the marrow in his bones, there's just something so phenomenally sad about Cas stumbling into the door frame, reeking of eight different kinds of booze, slack jawed and slurring in enochian when he trips over Dean's duffle bag.
"Cas, man. Seriously. You all right?" Sam asks with this intenseness wrinkling his forehead and pulling at the corners of his mouth. Cas looks up at him, blinking slowly, dark eyelashes matted and wet, then shoves Sam across the room. Sam feels a crack in the drywall where his head landed and his arm knocks the decorative mirror off the wall. It hits the ground and shatters into fourteen different shards, each of them reflecting a different part of him. Its not really funny seeing as how they really don't need anymore bad luck, but Sam, he chokes out a dry, forced laugh, because that's exactly how he's felt lately; taken apart, like he and Dean are only segments of the big picture, sharp and dangerous.
"What," Cas growls out in that voice that Sam recognizes all too well from the many times Dean just couldn't take it anymore, when he'd try and drown his thoughts and feelings in a bottle and come back, his voice rough and raw sounding from the burn of too much whiskey. It twists something in his gut, something hot and familiar and achy, unresolved. "Is so damn funny?" Cas finishes, crowding up in Sam's personal space. Apparently its not just Dean, then.
"Since when do you swear?"
"Since when do you care?" Cas spits back at him and oh, so he wants to do this. Sam gets it. He's been there, on the other side of one of John's week long benders, at the bad end of Dean's pent up aggression, taking punches because his brother won't - can't communicate with him. He understands. There's nothing Cas can do about this. He feels abandoned, betrayed, questioning his own existence. Sam gets it.
"I care," Sam says casually. "You're the one that called me an abomination dude."
Something in Castiel's expression twitches momentarily, but he quickly covers it back up with the mask he's had on every since he stumbled through the hotel room door. "Well, you are."
Sam smirks, folding up a t-shirt of Dean's. Its dirty, but Sam doesn't care. It smells like him, aftershave and gunpowder, salt and iron, sweat. Dean. "Yeah? What's that make you then?"
"You love him," Cas replies, throwing Sam off his guard, like he didn't even hear the last thing Sam hurled at him.
"What?"
Cas' eyes flick down to the black shirt Sam just folded up so neatly, running his fingers along the seams before he shoved it into his duffle. Sam shrugs.
"Of course, man. He's my brother."
Cas grins and oh god, if that's not the single most terrifying thing Sam's seen in a while. Its not even close to looking happy or joyous, its just his mouth and his teeth, nothing pleasing about it. Its creepy as fuck and Sam knows exactly what he's thinking and - has to look away.
"How does it make you feel, Sam? That Dean's giving up, I mean. That he doesn't care anymore. That he doesn't think this is his problem any-"
"Shut up," Sam grits out and he's not sure when it happened, but all of a sudden he has his hands fisted in Cas' coat, slamming him against the wall. "That's not.. Dean's not..."
And okay, if Sam thought Castiel grinning at him was horrific, the laugh that escapes his mouth next -- well, he won't be sleeping anytime soon. "You're wrong, Sam," Cas sing-songs. "Wrong, wrong, wrong."
Sam's knuckles flex, his fingers curling into tight, solid balls next to his thighs. He's going to hit him - he wants to hit him, but then he sees it again. This flicker, this shadow of sadness in Cas' eyes when his mask slips. He can see it all then, how bad Cas is hurting; the same way that Dean is hurting. Sam relaxes his fingers and drops his shoulders, his head, sighing into the air between them.
"I -- I apologize." Cas murmurs quietly, almost sounding ashamed of himself. "I don't know what -- That was not appropriate. Apparently I am an angry drunk on top of everything else."
Sam laughs humorlessly. "It was the truth."
"No," Cas says, reaching out for Sam. His fingers slide over Sam's forearm and Sam almost flinches at the touch, but its gentle, assuring. It's the touch of an angel. He almost expects it to burn his skin. "No, it wasn't. I was - am - angry. I didn't mean. Dean is a good man, Sam. We both know that. He will be okay. He will do the right thing."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Sam mutters. He's been looking away, down at the floor, at the grime on his shoes, but when he looks up, Cas is staring straight at him and the look on his face, its peaceful. Sam feels this calmness wash over, not peace exactly, but contentment. Cas smiles at him and its not terrifying this time, but Sam can't exactly put a word to what it is. Its like he finally gets it, what all the fuss is about. That Sam can't live without Dean, that there is not Dean without Sam and this decision, this free fucking will, its killing them.
"The love you and your brother have. That's the kind of love I believe in. That love is what our creator wishes for all, Sam. It's so beautiful." He reaches up and touches Sam's face, traces the shape of it with his thumb, the contours of his jaw, feeling the dark, prickly stubble coating Sam's chin. "You're not an abomination. He created you. You are beautiful."
Sam closes his eyes. This, its too much. Castiel's touching him, an actual Angel of the Lord touching him and telling him he's beautiful, that God created him and he's not a monster like everyone thinks - hell, like he thinks more often than not.
"I -" he chokes on the words he wants to say but can't seem to find and leans forward, pressing his mouth against Castiel's. He figures he doesn't know how to tell him how much that means, hearing something like that from someone like him, even if he is a dysfunctional angel with a hell of a hangover. He's still an angel. He still believes.
And Sam, well. He'll take what he can get.
Sam/Castiel (with a little vague hint to Sam/Dean because duh otp)
1051 words
written for
folkhore because.As much as he's worried about Dean, this wracking, bone-deep worry that he can feel coursing through the marrow in his bones, there's just something so phenomenally sad about Cas stumbling into the door frame, reeking of eight different kinds of booze, slack jawed and slurring in enochian when he trips over Dean's duffle bag.
"Cas, man. Seriously. You all right?" Sam asks with this intenseness wrinkling his forehead and pulling at the corners of his mouth. Cas looks up at him, blinking slowly, dark eyelashes matted and wet, then shoves Sam across the room. Sam feels a crack in the drywall where his head landed and his arm knocks the decorative mirror off the wall. It hits the ground and shatters into fourteen different shards, each of them reflecting a different part of him. Its not really funny seeing as how they really don't need anymore bad luck, but Sam, he chokes out a dry, forced laugh, because that's exactly how he's felt lately; taken apart, like he and Dean are only segments of the big picture, sharp and dangerous.
"What," Cas growls out in that voice that Sam recognizes all too well from the many times Dean just couldn't take it anymore, when he'd try and drown his thoughts and feelings in a bottle and come back, his voice rough and raw sounding from the burn of too much whiskey. It twists something in his gut, something hot and familiar and achy, unresolved. "Is so damn funny?" Cas finishes, crowding up in Sam's personal space. Apparently its not just Dean, then.
"Since when do you swear?"
"Since when do you care?" Cas spits back at him and oh, so he wants to do this. Sam gets it. He's been there, on the other side of one of John's week long benders, at the bad end of Dean's pent up aggression, taking punches because his brother won't - can't communicate with him. He understands. There's nothing Cas can do about this. He feels abandoned, betrayed, questioning his own existence. Sam gets it.
"I care," Sam says casually. "You're the one that called me an abomination dude."
Something in Castiel's expression twitches momentarily, but he quickly covers it back up with the mask he's had on every since he stumbled through the hotel room door. "Well, you are."
Sam smirks, folding up a t-shirt of Dean's. Its dirty, but Sam doesn't care. It smells like him, aftershave and gunpowder, salt and iron, sweat. Dean. "Yeah? What's that make you then?"
"You love him," Cas replies, throwing Sam off his guard, like he didn't even hear the last thing Sam hurled at him.
"What?"
Cas' eyes flick down to the black shirt Sam just folded up so neatly, running his fingers along the seams before he shoved it into his duffle. Sam shrugs.
"Of course, man. He's my brother."
Cas grins and oh god, if that's not the single most terrifying thing Sam's seen in a while. Its not even close to looking happy or joyous, its just his mouth and his teeth, nothing pleasing about it. Its creepy as fuck and Sam knows exactly what he's thinking and - has to look away.
"How does it make you feel, Sam? That Dean's giving up, I mean. That he doesn't care anymore. That he doesn't think this is his problem any-"
"Shut up," Sam grits out and he's not sure when it happened, but all of a sudden he has his hands fisted in Cas' coat, slamming him against the wall. "That's not.. Dean's not..."
And okay, if Sam thought Castiel grinning at him was horrific, the laugh that escapes his mouth next -- well, he won't be sleeping anytime soon. "You're wrong, Sam," Cas sing-songs. "Wrong, wrong, wrong."
Sam's knuckles flex, his fingers curling into tight, solid balls next to his thighs. He's going to hit him - he wants to hit him, but then he sees it again. This flicker, this shadow of sadness in Cas' eyes when his mask slips. He can see it all then, how bad Cas is hurting; the same way that Dean is hurting. Sam relaxes his fingers and drops his shoulders, his head, sighing into the air between them.
"I -- I apologize." Cas murmurs quietly, almost sounding ashamed of himself. "I don't know what -- That was not appropriate. Apparently I am an angry drunk on top of everything else."
Sam laughs humorlessly. "It was the truth."
"No," Cas says, reaching out for Sam. His fingers slide over Sam's forearm and Sam almost flinches at the touch, but its gentle, assuring. It's the touch of an angel. He almost expects it to burn his skin. "No, it wasn't. I was - am - angry. I didn't mean. Dean is a good man, Sam. We both know that. He will be okay. He will do the right thing."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Sam mutters. He's been looking away, down at the floor, at the grime on his shoes, but when he looks up, Cas is staring straight at him and the look on his face, its peaceful. Sam feels this calmness wash over, not peace exactly, but contentment. Cas smiles at him and its not terrifying this time, but Sam can't exactly put a word to what it is. Its like he finally gets it, what all the fuss is about. That Sam can't live without Dean, that there is not Dean without Sam and this decision, this free fucking will, its killing them.
"The love you and your brother have. That's the kind of love I believe in. That love is what our creator wishes for all, Sam. It's so beautiful." He reaches up and touches Sam's face, traces the shape of it with his thumb, the contours of his jaw, feeling the dark, prickly stubble coating Sam's chin. "You're not an abomination. He created you. You are beautiful."
Sam closes his eyes. This, its too much. Castiel's touching him, an actual Angel of the Lord touching him and telling him he's beautiful, that God created him and he's not a monster like everyone thinks - hell, like he thinks more often than not.
"I -" he chokes on the words he wants to say but can't seem to find and leans forward, pressing his mouth against Castiel's. He figures he doesn't know how to tell him how much that means, hearing something like that from someone like him, even if he is a dysfunctional angel with a hell of a hangover. He's still an angel. He still believes.
And Sam, well. He'll take what he can get.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-10 09:25 pm (UTC)My fave parts:
Violent, abrasive, physical Cas - boys shoving each other around is so central to Sam and Dean's relationship and communication, and seeing that between Sam and Cas is epic.
Sam feels a crack in the drywall where his head landed and his arm knocks the decorative mirror off the wall. It hits the ground and shatters into fourteen different shards, each of them reflecting a different part of him. Its not really funny seeing as how they really don't need anymore bad luck, but Sam, he chokes out a dry, forced laugh, because that's exactly how he's felt lately; taken apart, like he and Dean are only segments of the big picture, sharp and dangerous.
Um, yeah. That pretty much says everything. Beautifully.
"The love you and your brother have. That's the kind of love I believe in. That love is what our creator wishes for all, Sam. It's so beautiful." He reaches up and touches Sam's face, traces the shape of it with his thumb, the contours of his jaw, feeling the dark, prickly stubble coating Sam's chin. "You're not an abomination. He created you. You are beautiful."
Sam closes his eyes. This, its too much. Castiel's touching him, an actual Angel of the Lord touching him and telling him he's beautiful, that God created him and he's not a monster like everyone thinks - hell, like he thinks more often than not.
"I -" he chokes on the words he wants to say but can't seem to find and leans forward, pressing his mouth against Castiel's.
Creepy, almost-cruel Cas before was great - his pain is obvious, all of the things these boys due to mask their pain and work around really talking - but here his words are so beautiful and so what Sam needs. And then back to the physical - Sam saying what he can't in a kiss. Wonder what Cas makes of it?
I love you soooooooo much for this!!! And it's not even the painkillers talking, I swear ;) You need to write more of these two, bb...Because I love it.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-10 09:30 pm (UTC)SO I WILL PROBABLY WRITE MORE. UGH. What happened to me lolol.
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Date: 2010-04-11 03:49 am (UTC)You should post a link to this over at
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Date: 2010-04-11 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-11 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-11 09:48 pm (UTC)Okay, Sam comparing Castiel to Dean and John, saying that he gets Cas' need to, just, destruct? That BROKE ME. Because how many times has Sam gone toe-to-toe with his brother, with his dad, just to give them someone to rail against that wasn't themselves?
And aww Sam. He played it off like it was nothing, but you know being called an abomination had to have stung quite a bit. It's like a level up from a freak. D: So for Cas to take it back, to tell Sam that he's beautiful, that's...I needed that. Thank you. <3
And that kiss! It felt very organic, just Sam trying to tell Castiel what he couldn't in words. I love it!
*chinhands* What happens next? ;)
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Date: 2010-04-11 10:56 pm (UTC)Cas tells Sam he's been thinking about what happened between them, that time he drank that liquor store and verbally kicked Sam's ass, and Sam says "Oh? That was, I think we were both drunk," But Cas says no, he's feeling less like a servent of God these days and more and more human, with human needs and human desires, so Sam kind of asks him what it is he desires and Cas throws him down on the bed and shows him.
And Sam's pretty surprised at his strength, impressed by how easily Cas can throw him around, and Cas is just so BROKEN and NEEDY with all these damn FEELINGS, that he goes nuts, touching every inch of Sam and tasting and dry humping against Sam's hips until he comes with a little cry.
So yeah. I think that's probably what happens next. >_>
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