Up On The Roof
Title: Up On The Roof
Author: familybizness
Summary: An interlude. Cas and Christa talk about their feelings.
Castiel has been back for two months.
It’s better. He’s not sleeping in the Dark Room anymore (except for when Sam does; being allowed into the Dark Room when Sam’s in there is more complex than being allowed into his bed, but sometimes Sam does let him in and sometimes he asks him to come in and sometimes he cries for wings and Castiel wraps him up as tightly as he can manage). He checks Sam’s heart and Sam’s lungs in the mornings before Sam wakes up and in the evenings before he goes to sleep. He cradles his human against his shoulder, feeds him spoons of turkey soup and kisses his hair and whispers, “I love you, I love you, I will never leave you.”
But there’s a day he goes to the store for strawberries, which aren’t in season, but which Sam loves, and he doesn’t mention he’s going or leave a note because he wants it to be a surprise, but when he gets back twenty minutes later Sam is hysterical and Christa’s pressing him against her and looking worried, and Dean won’t look at Castiel.
He drops the bags. “What’s going on?”
“Ca-a-aaaas…” Sam wails. Castiel goes to him and tries to take him from Christa, but he clings to her.
She meets his eyes over Sam’s head. “He thought you left.”
“I went to the store…”
“He thought you…left, Cas.”
Oh. Oh.
***
He mumbles that he’s going up to the roof, and Dean nods and waves him away, wrapped around a still-crying Sam.
It’s windy up there, and not as warm as he’d like, and the chill the wind gives him makes him think of a fever, makes him think of Sam, who he keeps hurting. Maybe he’ll never forgive himself, he thinks, like that’s some sort of solution.
There’s a noise behind him and he turns.
“Sorry,” Christa says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She’s pretty pregnant now, to the point that moving around is a little awkward. He stands automatically and helps her settle herself, wraps an arm around her to support her back because he knows it’s been hurting, and she allows it. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “Is Sam all right?”
“Upset. You know.”
“I only meant to surprise him with strawberries.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t do so well with surprises.”
And that’s something Castiel should know about his human. He thinks it over and over, sears it into his brain. No surprises. No surprises. He won’t forget.
Aloud he says, “The best gesture of my brain is worth less than his eyelids’ flutter.”
“What?”
“Sam is…everything.”
“I know.” She pulls out a cigarette and puts it between her lips, but doesn’t light it. She’s not supposed to be smoking right now, he knows. To tell the truth, between one thing and another (asthma and addiction, Sam and Dean), neither of them ought to smoke ever, but there’s a difference between being a Winchester and loving one.
Sometimes (Christa says, Castiel agrees), you just need to take the edge off.
She handles her cigarette as if she were smoking it, going so far as to inhale around it and offer him a drag. He accepts it. “How do I stop?”
“Smoking?” she side-eyes him. “You know you’re not, right?”
“Not smoking. Hurting Sam.”
She takes a long inhale, which means she’s thinking about it, purses her lips and breathes out. “It’s a big fucking thing you’ve taken on.”
“Of course it is. It’s everything.”
“You know the answer, don’t you?”
He thinks he does, but he must be wrong.
“He’s always going to hurt, Cas. We’re always going to hurt him.”
“No. That isn’t acceptable.”
“Tell me how to make Dean happy, then.”
“Dean is…not a happy person.”
She nods and rests her chin on her knees. “I know.”
“It isn’t because of you.”
“Yeah.”
“It isn’t, Christa.”
“I’m his wife, though. I’m supposed to make him happy.”
“It’s a big fucking thing you’ve taken on,” he says, to make her laugh, and she does a little, but not like it’s actually funny.
“If I thought he was never going to be happy…” she sighs. “Maybe I could live with it, you know? If I thought he was just…broken. Beyond that.” She doesn’t say like Sam, but she thinks it. It’s not as if Castiel doesn’t know what’s on her mind.
“Maybe he is beyond it.”
“He’s not, though. I see him happy all the time. When he’s working on the car, or having dessert, or…”
“When he’s with Sam.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s happy now,” Castiel says, not really thinking about it, and she flinches as if he’s hurt her. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “You understand, don’t you?”
“You feel second to Sam.” Of course he understands that. Sam is clinging to his brother and Castiel is up on the roof pretending to smoke a cigarette. Feeling like second place is a part of this life.
“I just think that if I could make him happy…then maybe…”
"What?"
"Maybe he'd...oh, I don't know. Love me as much as he does Sam."
Castiel thinks of Dean a few years ago, angry at the world, shouting and drinking, fiercely defensive of his brother and incapable of feeling for anyone else. Dean shaking out of nightmares, barely able to let Sam touch him for hours after the worst ones. Dean sitting on a motel rooftop and telling Castiel with a catch in his voice, sometimes I wish he’d just left me there.
Dean now, making waffles. Picking up Kylie from school. Painting the twins’ nursery and painting Castiel’s cheek and laughing when Sam laughs. Holding Christa like closeness is something that feels good. Like loving people who aren't Sam is something that feels good.
He kisses her forehead. “You do make him happy.”
She doesn’t see it, he knows, and wishes she did, and maybe that means there’s more than he can see about what Sam’s feeling. Maybe he’s not just hurting his human. Maybe he’s making him happy, too.
***
That night in bed, as Sam’s falling asleep in his arms, Castiel whispers, “I love you, Sam, I will never leave you.”
Sam kisses him and murmurs, “I know.”
Author: familybizness
Summary: An interlude. Cas and Christa talk about their feelings.
Castiel has been back for two months.
It’s better. He’s not sleeping in the Dark Room anymore (except for when Sam does; being allowed into the Dark Room when Sam’s in there is more complex than being allowed into his bed, but sometimes Sam does let him in and sometimes he asks him to come in and sometimes he cries for wings and Castiel wraps him up as tightly as he can manage). He checks Sam’s heart and Sam’s lungs in the mornings before Sam wakes up and in the evenings before he goes to sleep. He cradles his human against his shoulder, feeds him spoons of turkey soup and kisses his hair and whispers, “I love you, I love you, I will never leave you.”
But there’s a day he goes to the store for strawberries, which aren’t in season, but which Sam loves, and he doesn’t mention he’s going or leave a note because he wants it to be a surprise, but when he gets back twenty minutes later Sam is hysterical and Christa’s pressing him against her and looking worried, and Dean won’t look at Castiel.
He drops the bags. “What’s going on?”
“Ca-a-aaaas…” Sam wails. Castiel goes to him and tries to take him from Christa, but he clings to her.
She meets his eyes over Sam’s head. “He thought you left.”
“I went to the store…”
“He thought you…left, Cas.”
Oh. Oh.
***
He mumbles that he’s going up to the roof, and Dean nods and waves him away, wrapped around a still-crying Sam.
It’s windy up there, and not as warm as he’d like, and the chill the wind gives him makes him think of a fever, makes him think of Sam, who he keeps hurting. Maybe he’ll never forgive himself, he thinks, like that’s some sort of solution.
There’s a noise behind him and he turns.
“Sorry,” Christa says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She’s pretty pregnant now, to the point that moving around is a little awkward. He stands automatically and helps her settle herself, wraps an arm around her to support her back because he knows it’s been hurting, and she allows it. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “Is Sam all right?”
“Upset. You know.”
“I only meant to surprise him with strawberries.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t do so well with surprises.”
And that’s something Castiel should know about his human. He thinks it over and over, sears it into his brain. No surprises. No surprises. He won’t forget.
Aloud he says, “The best gesture of my brain is worth less than his eyelids’ flutter.”
“What?”
“Sam is…everything.”
“I know.” She pulls out a cigarette and puts it between her lips, but doesn’t light it. She’s not supposed to be smoking right now, he knows. To tell the truth, between one thing and another (asthma and addiction, Sam and Dean), neither of them ought to smoke ever, but there’s a difference between being a Winchester and loving one.
Sometimes (Christa says, Castiel agrees), you just need to take the edge off.
She handles her cigarette as if she were smoking it, going so far as to inhale around it and offer him a drag. He accepts it. “How do I stop?”
“Smoking?” she side-eyes him. “You know you’re not, right?”
“Not smoking. Hurting Sam.”
She takes a long inhale, which means she’s thinking about it, purses her lips and breathes out. “It’s a big fucking thing you’ve taken on.”
“Of course it is. It’s everything.”
“You know the answer, don’t you?”
He thinks he does, but he must be wrong.
“He’s always going to hurt, Cas. We’re always going to hurt him.”
“No. That isn’t acceptable.”
“Tell me how to make Dean happy, then.”
“Dean is…not a happy person.”
She nods and rests her chin on her knees. “I know.”
“It isn’t because of you.”
“Yeah.”
“It isn’t, Christa.”
“I’m his wife, though. I’m supposed to make him happy.”
“It’s a big fucking thing you’ve taken on,” he says, to make her laugh, and she does a little, but not like it’s actually funny.
“If I thought he was never going to be happy…” she sighs. “Maybe I could live with it, you know? If I thought he was just…broken. Beyond that.” She doesn’t say like Sam, but she thinks it. It’s not as if Castiel doesn’t know what’s on her mind.
“Maybe he is beyond it.”
“He’s not, though. I see him happy all the time. When he’s working on the car, or having dessert, or…”
“When he’s with Sam.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s happy now,” Castiel says, not really thinking about it, and she flinches as if he’s hurt her. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “You understand, don’t you?”
“You feel second to Sam.” Of course he understands that. Sam is clinging to his brother and Castiel is up on the roof pretending to smoke a cigarette. Feeling like second place is a part of this life.
“I just think that if I could make him happy…then maybe…”
"What?"
"Maybe he'd...oh, I don't know. Love me as much as he does Sam."
Castiel thinks of Dean a few years ago, angry at the world, shouting and drinking, fiercely defensive of his brother and incapable of feeling for anyone else. Dean shaking out of nightmares, barely able to let Sam touch him for hours after the worst ones. Dean sitting on a motel rooftop and telling Castiel with a catch in his voice, sometimes I wish he’d just left me there.
Dean now, making waffles. Picking up Kylie from school. Painting the twins’ nursery and painting Castiel’s cheek and laughing when Sam laughs. Holding Christa like closeness is something that feels good. Like loving people who aren't Sam is something that feels good.
He kisses her forehead. “You do make him happy.”
She doesn’t see it, he knows, and wishes she did, and maybe that means there’s more than he can see about what Sam’s feeling. Maybe he’s not just hurting his human. Maybe he’s making him happy, too.
***
That night in bed, as Sam’s falling asleep in his arms, Castiel whispers, “I love you, Sam, I will never leave you.”
Sam kisses him and murmurs, “I know.”