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orbiting_saturn
Jun. 1st, 2011 11:13 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Stay With Me
Pairing: Sam/Cas (friendship/pre-slash)
Rating: PG
Any warnings: No warnings; blanket spoilers for all of s6. Takes place between 6.12 and 6.13.
Summary: A trap is sprung, uncomfortable truths are almost revealed, and awkwardness isn’t quite averted.
Written byfete_in_june for orbiting_saturn!
The rock-face is cracked and worn, tiny baby trees growing out of the deep crevasses and mosses painting the surface. By the time either of them notice the runes, it’s too late.
Sam’s kicking himself for not noticing—the old Enochian symbols are obvious now, as they should have been, even if they weren’t glowing blue before. But Cas was the one who tripped the rockslide, and he didn’t notice either. Sam checks his phone. No reception. Typical.
Cas huddles against the fallen rocks, the only surface not painted in glowing sigils, angling himself away from the markings. Sam wonders if it hurts. He’s afraid to ask. Something between them has been different since Sam got back. They’ve always been awkward, always been the line that doesn’t make any sense, a friendship that only exists because of their bonds with Dean. And that hasn’t changed.
It’s still not the same awkwardness. It’s not Cas’s righteousness and Sam’s corruption. If anything, Cas is acting like their places are switched, like Sam’s the pure one and Cas has been tainted, and Sam can’t for the life of him figure out why.
He paces the tiny cavern.
“Stop moving,” Cas says. His voice is rougher than usual, a resonating growl that reverberates off the dank walls. Sam halts.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m finding a way out.” Cas traces one of the stones, one ear pressed against the barricade, humming a gentle monotone. Sam shakes his head.
“Dean will find us,” he says. Cas stiffens.
“This is a trap of Raphael’s. I recognize the craftsmanship. I will fix this,” Cas says. Then, almost to himself: “I will fix everything.”
Sam sighs. He crosses to Cas’s side and carefully lowers himself onto the dusty ground. Cas stares at him, suspicious, but doesn’t argue.
“I was gone for a while,” Sam says.
“I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice is quiet, his head ducked away from Sam.
Sam stares at him. “For what?” he asks. When no answer is forthcoming, he shakes his head. “Never mind. The point is, you were the only one who told me what really happened. And. Thanks.”
Cas nods. He still won’t look at Sam.
“Dean told me about your war,” Sam continues. “That’s rough.”
It earns him a sound that might be a laugh—a high, choked cough that’s cut off almost as soon as it begins. “I’m handling it,” Cas says after a moment. “I am far more concerned—if the wall crumbles—I have no desire to see you harmed. Any of you,” he adds.
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“There isn’t,” Cas says. “You’re burdened enough. And I—my allies are many. They are strong. We will win. I am—I am doing what I must.” He’s talking to the rocks again. They’re more easily convinced than Sam. Definitely more easily convinced than Cas himself.
The haunted edge in his voice is eerily familiar, and each glimpse of the angel’s face drives home the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of Sam’s stomach. He doesn’t want to think about what it could mean. His own redemption was painful enough, and he isn’t even close to atoning for everything. Especially not since he learned what transpired during the year he spent in the Cage. If Cas is going down a similar path—whatever that might mean—Sam knows he’s not going to be the one to fix it. He thinks Cas knows it too.
“I am truly sorry, Sam. This past year… If I could change it, I would,”
“It’s not your fault, man,” Sam says, uncomfortable with Cas’s sudden intensity. “Crowley’s the one who brought me back without a soul.”
Cas looks at him, then. Unreadable. “Yes,” he says. “Still, I told Dean not to return your soul. I am grateful he didn’t listen.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Sam says. He’s almost certain it’s the wrong thing to say, and he flinches as soon as the words leave his mouth. Cas makes no indication one way or the other, save for a cryptic sigh.
Sam leans against the rockslide. It’s not entirely comfortable—the rocks fall at strange angles and jab into his spine and shoulderblades—but he doesn’t want to leave Cas’s side.
“Are the rocks saying anything?” Sam asks.
“They are rocks,” Cas says, glaring. “I am listening to the runes, and the sound of your voice is impeding my attempts to—”
Sam can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. They’re trapped in a cave, Castiel’s powerless to get them out, and his faith in Dean’s ability to find them is somewhat nonexistent. Yet the indignant look on the angel’s face is enough to send him into hysterics.
“Stop laughing,” Cas says, though his words are softer, and Sam can hear a hint of amusement in his voice. He can’t read Cas as well as his brother can—he’s almost convinced Dean and Cas have some kind of weird psychic thing—but Cas is not nearly as unreadable as he thinks. Sam coughs and wipes an arm across his face.
“Sorry,” Sam says. “Um. Are the runes saying anything?”
Cas sighs. “No. Raphael knows his craft.”
“That’s okay,” Sam says, trying to be reassuring. He’s pretty sure he’s failing. “You said Dean’ll find us.
“And you don’t believe he will.”
Sam shrugs. “Hey, maybe he will. You never know. It’s happened before.”
“Dean saves us all,” Cas says, more to himself than to Sam. He turns his gaze back to the boulders, and in the dim glowing light of the Enochian sigils, Sam thinks he sees something glisten on the angel’s cheek.
He dismisses it. Angels don’t cry. And even if they did, Cas doesn’t. It must be a trick of the light, Sam decides.
Which doesn’t account for Sam’s next action, a moment of pure insanity that under any other circumstances would have him shaking his head and kicking himself. If Cas didn’t do it for him, anyway. He wraps an arm around the angel’s shoulder. Cas’s head jerks up and he stares at Sam with wide eyes, deep and blue and powerful and Sam freezes.
“Sam?” Cas asks, sounding nowhere near powerful. Closer to frightened and vulnerable, but in an entirely unrecognizable way. Sam clears his throat.
“Um,” he says, and moves to disentangle himself. “Sorry.”
Before he can pull away completely, Cas makes a tiny noise—a whimper or a laugh, Sam can’t tell—and presses into his side.
“You said it would be awkward,” Cas says, his words muffled in soft flannel. Sam laughs and wraps his other arm around Cas’s waist.
“Maybe awkward’s not so bad,” Sam says. “Maybe I kind of like awkward.”
Cas clutches the back of Sam’s shirt. His dark hair obscures most of his face from view, but for a brief moment, Sam thinks he sees the angel smile.
Pairing: Sam/Cas (friendship/pre-slash)
Rating: PG
Any warnings: No warnings; blanket spoilers for all of s6. Takes place between 6.12 and 6.13.
Summary: A trap is sprung, uncomfortable truths are almost revealed, and awkwardness isn’t quite averted.
Written by
fete_in_june for orbiting_saturn!The rock-face is cracked and worn, tiny baby trees growing out of the deep crevasses and mosses painting the surface. By the time either of them notice the runes, it’s too late.
Sam’s kicking himself for not noticing—the old Enochian symbols are obvious now, as they should have been, even if they weren’t glowing blue before. But Cas was the one who tripped the rockslide, and he didn’t notice either. Sam checks his phone. No reception. Typical.
Cas huddles against the fallen rocks, the only surface not painted in glowing sigils, angling himself away from the markings. Sam wonders if it hurts. He’s afraid to ask. Something between them has been different since Sam got back. They’ve always been awkward, always been the line that doesn’t make any sense, a friendship that only exists because of their bonds with Dean. And that hasn’t changed.
It’s still not the same awkwardness. It’s not Cas’s righteousness and Sam’s corruption. If anything, Cas is acting like their places are switched, like Sam’s the pure one and Cas has been tainted, and Sam can’t for the life of him figure out why.
He paces the tiny cavern.
“Stop moving,” Cas says. His voice is rougher than usual, a resonating growl that reverberates off the dank walls. Sam halts.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m finding a way out.” Cas traces one of the stones, one ear pressed against the barricade, humming a gentle monotone. Sam shakes his head.
“Dean will find us,” he says. Cas stiffens.
“This is a trap of Raphael’s. I recognize the craftsmanship. I will fix this,” Cas says. Then, almost to himself: “I will fix everything.”
Sam sighs. He crosses to Cas’s side and carefully lowers himself onto the dusty ground. Cas stares at him, suspicious, but doesn’t argue.
“I was gone for a while,” Sam says.
“I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice is quiet, his head ducked away from Sam.
Sam stares at him. “For what?” he asks. When no answer is forthcoming, he shakes his head. “Never mind. The point is, you were the only one who told me what really happened. And. Thanks.”
Cas nods. He still won’t look at Sam.
“Dean told me about your war,” Sam continues. “That’s rough.”
It earns him a sound that might be a laugh—a high, choked cough that’s cut off almost as soon as it begins. “I’m handling it,” Cas says after a moment. “I am far more concerned—if the wall crumbles—I have no desire to see you harmed. Any of you,” he adds.
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“There isn’t,” Cas says. “You’re burdened enough. And I—my allies are many. They are strong. We will win. I am—I am doing what I must.” He’s talking to the rocks again. They’re more easily convinced than Sam. Definitely more easily convinced than Cas himself.
The haunted edge in his voice is eerily familiar, and each glimpse of the angel’s face drives home the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of Sam’s stomach. He doesn’t want to think about what it could mean. His own redemption was painful enough, and he isn’t even close to atoning for everything. Especially not since he learned what transpired during the year he spent in the Cage. If Cas is going down a similar path—whatever that might mean—Sam knows he’s not going to be the one to fix it. He thinks Cas knows it too.
“I am truly sorry, Sam. This past year… If I could change it, I would,”
“It’s not your fault, man,” Sam says, uncomfortable with Cas’s sudden intensity. “Crowley’s the one who brought me back without a soul.”
Cas looks at him, then. Unreadable. “Yes,” he says. “Still, I told Dean not to return your soul. I am grateful he didn’t listen.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Sam says. He’s almost certain it’s the wrong thing to say, and he flinches as soon as the words leave his mouth. Cas makes no indication one way or the other, save for a cryptic sigh.
Sam leans against the rockslide. It’s not entirely comfortable—the rocks fall at strange angles and jab into his spine and shoulderblades—but he doesn’t want to leave Cas’s side.
“Are the rocks saying anything?” Sam asks.
“They are rocks,” Cas says, glaring. “I am listening to the runes, and the sound of your voice is impeding my attempts to—”
Sam can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. They’re trapped in a cave, Castiel’s powerless to get them out, and his faith in Dean’s ability to find them is somewhat nonexistent. Yet the indignant look on the angel’s face is enough to send him into hysterics.
“Stop laughing,” Cas says, though his words are softer, and Sam can hear a hint of amusement in his voice. He can’t read Cas as well as his brother can—he’s almost convinced Dean and Cas have some kind of weird psychic thing—but Cas is not nearly as unreadable as he thinks. Sam coughs and wipes an arm across his face.
“Sorry,” Sam says. “Um. Are the runes saying anything?”
Cas sighs. “No. Raphael knows his craft.”
“That’s okay,” Sam says, trying to be reassuring. He’s pretty sure he’s failing. “You said Dean’ll find us.
“And you don’t believe he will.”
Sam shrugs. “Hey, maybe he will. You never know. It’s happened before.”
“Dean saves us all,” Cas says, more to himself than to Sam. He turns his gaze back to the boulders, and in the dim glowing light of the Enochian sigils, Sam thinks he sees something glisten on the angel’s cheek.
He dismisses it. Angels don’t cry. And even if they did, Cas doesn’t. It must be a trick of the light, Sam decides.
Which doesn’t account for Sam’s next action, a moment of pure insanity that under any other circumstances would have him shaking his head and kicking himself. If Cas didn’t do it for him, anyway. He wraps an arm around the angel’s shoulder. Cas’s head jerks up and he stares at Sam with wide eyes, deep and blue and powerful and Sam freezes.
“Sam?” Cas asks, sounding nowhere near powerful. Closer to frightened and vulnerable, but in an entirely unrecognizable way. Sam clears his throat.
“Um,” he says, and moves to disentangle himself. “Sorry.”
Before he can pull away completely, Cas makes a tiny noise—a whimper or a laugh, Sam can’t tell—and presses into his side.
“You said it would be awkward,” Cas says, his words muffled in soft flannel. Sam laughs and wraps his other arm around Cas’s waist.
“Maybe awkward’s not so bad,” Sam says. “Maybe I kind of like awkward.”
Cas clutches the back of Sam’s shirt. His dark hair obscures most of his face from view, but for a brief moment, Sam thinks he sees the angel smile.
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no subject
Date: 2011-06-02 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-02 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-02 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-04 11:14 am (UTC)I liked this a lot. It was sweet and awkward, and you really worked in canon quite well with all that Castiel knew that Sam didn't that you alluded to even through Sam's POV.
It’s still not the same awkwardness. It’s not Cas’s righteousness and Sam’s corruption. If anything, Cas is acting like their places are switched, like Sam’s the pure one and Cas has been tainted, and Sam can’t for the life of him figure out why.
Great observation, I loved this so much!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-04 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 05:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-14 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-23 05:44 am (UTC)