Fic: Hug It Out, Bitch.
Okay, I lied. This was technically a comment!fic, but it got a little out of hand and I love it an unreasonable amount, so I'm giving it its own entry.
Title: Hug It Out, Bitch.
Characters: Sam/Castiel, Dean, Ellen, Bobby, Rufus, Zachariah, Chuck, Chuck's poor molested throw pillow.
Ratings/Warnings: PG/Spoiler for 5.08 "Changing Channels"
Word Count: 1700
Summary: Written for the Stay Sassy prompt "Sam makes the mistake of giving Castiel a hug then refusing to hug him again. Castiel becomes a total hug-slut until someone finally decrees Sam damn well give Castiel hugs when he needs them."
Sam’s eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, watching Castiel’s face as the angel rode silently in the backseat. The gash across his nose had healed, but the blood remained, and he stared out the window with a haunted expression.
“What did Gabriel do to you while we were stuck in TV land, anyway?” he asked once they stopped for the night.
Castiel glanced between him and Dean and said to his own shoes, “He trapped me in a temple labyrinth. In each room I had to complete a challenge, and hidden guards waited to throttle me if I was unwatchful. There was a-a shrine to a silver monkey, and every three minutes an ominous tone sounded…”
“Silver monkey. Why does that sound so familiar?” Dean asked from the motel room sink.
It clicked. Sam had to press his lips together to keep from smiling. “It’s the final round of Legends of the Hidden Temple - a Nickelodeon game show from the early 90’s.”
“It was impossible,” Castiel said bitterly, as if he were recounting a war story.
“Oh, Cas, of course it was,” Sam said, trying not to laugh. “But if you’d won, they’d’ve had to send you to Space Camp.”
“Space Camp?” the angel repeated, looking as though he’d genuinely missed out on something.
And that-well, to borrow a much-loathed phrase from Dean, that was just too precious for this world. Chuckling, Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the angel. “You’re safe now,” he said.
Castiel stiffened as if preparing for an attack, and it occurred to Sam that he’d probably never been hugged before. Then, just as suddenly, he turned to angel jello between Sam’s formidable arms. His whole body mushed up limply against Sam’s, he buried his face in Sam’s neck, and a low “Mmmmm” emitted from his throat.
Sam sidestepped out of the hug, all feelings of endearment dropped in favor of one big UM NO running through his brain. Castiel stumbled, nearly falling in the absence of a Winchester to lean into, and looked like he’d just lost his chance to go to Space Camp all over again. “Sam,” he said, collecting himself somewhat, “I would like for you to hug me again.”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said.
The angel blinked up at him, and Sam could just about see the gears whirring under the surface. “Please?” he tried.
“What? No.”
Castiel huffed slightly. Then in a ruffle of feathers, he disappeared.
“That was weird,” Dean observed, spitting out his toothpaste into the sink basin. “It was almost like he-AUGH!”
Castiel had appeared just beside him and wrapped his arms around the elder brother, hugging him awkwardly from the side. Dean cradled one arm around him as an instinctive reaction, even as he was trying to lean away. Castiel stared hard at him for a moment, then dropped his arms and disappeared with another huff.
“And that,” Sam said, “Was extra weird.”
*
The warmth of sunlight on his face and the mildewy smell of the motel room woke Sam. He turned over so the sun wasn’t shining directly in his eyes and opened them.
Castiel faced him with an intent stare, lying stiff as a board on the bed beside him.
“AUGH!” Sam said.
“Hug me again,” Castiel said, as if giving him heavenly orders.
“No,” Sam said, his nose crinkling.
“Very well, then,” Castiel said with a grave sigh, and disappeared.
“Whatssissit?” Dean slurred into his pillow on the next bed. “Sammy? S’Lucifer buggin’ you again?”
“If only,” Sam grumbled.
*
Sam’s phone rang on the way out of town the next afternoon.
“You’ve got some weird friends,” a familiar voice said when he picked up.
“Oh, hey, Ellen,” Sam said, mentally flinching. He hadn’t called her since the incident with War, and he fully expected a smack the next time he saw her. “What’s up?”
“Boy calling himself Castiel caught up with me and Jo. He said he knew you. Then he demanded hugs from us.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Yeah. When I said I’d rather not, he gave us quite the display of wingspan and said he was an angel of the lord. Couldn’t say no to that. You know something about this angel thing you haven’t told us, Sam?”
“Angels? I-” Sam thought quick. “KKsshhhhkkkk, sorry, Ellen-kkkssshhh-we’re going through a tunnel and-kkkrrrrssshhh-” He clicked the phone shut.
*
When they reached Bobby’s, the old hunter was waiting on his porch, halfway through a bottle of Jameson and surly as Sam had ever seen him.
“I just got touched by your angel,” he said as Sam and Dean approached, and the gravely tone of his voice made them both stop in their tracks. He glared at Sam. “He got on his knees to do it. Patted my back and everything. You owe me, boy.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You turned him down for hugs,” Bobby answered ominously. “You made him hug-crazy and brought hell and awkwardness down upon the people you care about, Sam. You need to fix this, even if it means being that poor renegade angel’s personal teddy bear.”
“I-I can’t, Bobby.” Sam shrugged his broad shoulders.
“And why not?”
“Because. It’s…weird.”
Dean got to sleep on the couch that night, while Sam had to sleep out in the car.
*
“Uh-huh. Shot him with a round of buckshot? Really? Well, yeah, of course he’s okay - he’s a freaking angel. Yeah, no, I’m sorry. Sam’s real sorry. We’re working on it.”
Sam listened from the passenger seat, slouched low in his seat with his own phone buzzing faintly on the dashboard. When Dean hung up, he asked, “Who’d he hug this time?”
“Rufus,” Dean answered, shaking his head at the road in front of them. “We are working on this, right?”
“I’m not hugging him.”
“Dammit, Sam! Why the hell not?”
Sam rolled over the answers in his head. He hadn’t been raised to be comfortable with hugging. Hugging Castiel would just encourage this hug-fiend behavior. The idea of it really weirded him out. But…something within him also warned him that, if he hugged Castiel, it might lead to other weird things. Weird things he wasn’t sure he didn’t want. Sam clamped his mouth shut and stared out at the road.
*
“Please,” Zachariah pleaded when they caught up to him in a warehouse in Maine. “Please, Sam, will you just do this one thing for the greater good of Heaven? He’s been driving us insane.”
“I don’t work for you,” Sam spat back.
Zachariah groaned helplessly. “Aw, c’mon, Sam. He’s pinned my smiting arm. And he’s got surprisingly strong hands!”
Castiel, firmly attached to his former superior via what could only be described as a death cuddle, stared over his shoulder at Sam. He didn’t have to speak. Sam knew what he wanted. He shook his head.
“Gotta give the guy credit,” Dean said as they left the warehouse a short time later. “Dude’s better than holy oil fire. I’ve never seen Zach so eager to spill his guts.”
*
It lasted two weeks. Two weeks of the phone ringing whenever an old friend or acquaintance got surprise hugs from an angel, two weeks of vague threats from the heavenly host whenever their paths crossed, two weeks of Sam swallowing down a strange, guilty feeling. Then, in the middle of the night, he answered an emergency text from Chuck.
“Big trouble here,” it said. “Need u to come alone plz.”
Sam left his brother a quick note, took off with the Impala, and flew across state lines to reach Chuck’s house at about three in the morning. The lights were on, and the prophet was waiting by the door.
“What is it?” Sam said as he burst in. “What’s wrong?”
Chuck gave him a soulful look and nodded toward the couch, where Castiel was seated, his arms affixed around a 70’s throw pillow.
“Aw, man,” Sam said under his breath.
“This can’t go on,” Chuck said, shaking his head. “You know it can’t, Sam.”
“Did he hug you?”
“Yes. Several times.” When Sam shot him a curious look, Chuck shrugged. “I’m cuddly. It’s a curse. Anyway, he poofed in in the middle of lunch with my beta reader and scared the crap out of him. Do you know how hard it is to find a good beta reader?”
Sam didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry - be there for him! Look at him.”
Castiel was staring up at him forlornly, his chin denting the pillow.
“He needs you,” Chuck said.
“But why me?” Sam said.
“It’s always been you, Sam.” The prophet laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You have arms like an orangutan, and you smell like fabric softener. I may be cuddly, but you’re downright snugglable. It’s something you need to face.”
“But I can’t-”
“You can.” Chuck offered him an encouraging smile. “I wrote that hug. I know how safe being pressed against your enormous chest made him feel - and I know how it made you feel. It’s okay, Sam. Opening your arms to him doesn’t mean opening your heart to him. Not all at once. You can do this.”
Sam looked into Castiel’s eyes, feeling the loneliness and the despair and the lost Space Camp prize package as if it were his own. He crossed the room and knelt before the couch, carefully removing the throw pillow from the angel’s grip. Castiel stared at him momentarily, then sank against him, the warmth of his body pressing against Sam’s. Sam closed his arms around Castiel and laid a hand in the angel’s hair, pressing their cheeks close.
“Mmmmmm,” Castiel said deep in his throat, and this time, Sam understood what it meant.
Answering the angel’s nonverbal request, he hugged him tighter. “There, there,” he said, rubbing a circle at the small of Castiel’s back. “I’ve got you. It’s all right.”
And weirdly, he realized, it actually was.
THE END!
Title: Hug It Out, Bitch.
Characters: Sam/Castiel, Dean, Ellen, Bobby, Rufus, Zachariah, Chuck, Chuck's poor molested throw pillow.
Ratings/Warnings: PG/Spoiler for 5.08 "Changing Channels"
Word Count: 1700
Summary: Written for the Stay Sassy prompt "Sam makes the mistake of giving Castiel a hug then refusing to hug him again. Castiel becomes a total hug-slut until someone finally decrees Sam damn well give Castiel hugs when he needs them."
Sam’s eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, watching Castiel’s face as the angel rode silently in the backseat. The gash across his nose had healed, but the blood remained, and he stared out the window with a haunted expression.
“What did Gabriel do to you while we were stuck in TV land, anyway?” he asked once they stopped for the night.
Castiel glanced between him and Dean and said to his own shoes, “He trapped me in a temple labyrinth. In each room I had to complete a challenge, and hidden guards waited to throttle me if I was unwatchful. There was a-a shrine to a silver monkey, and every three minutes an ominous tone sounded…”
“Silver monkey. Why does that sound so familiar?” Dean asked from the motel room sink.
It clicked. Sam had to press his lips together to keep from smiling. “It’s the final round of Legends of the Hidden Temple - a Nickelodeon game show from the early 90’s.”
“It was impossible,” Castiel said bitterly, as if he were recounting a war story.
“Oh, Cas, of course it was,” Sam said, trying not to laugh. “But if you’d won, they’d’ve had to send you to Space Camp.”
“Space Camp?” the angel repeated, looking as though he’d genuinely missed out on something.
And that-well, to borrow a much-loathed phrase from Dean, that was just too precious for this world. Chuckling, Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the angel. “You’re safe now,” he said.
Castiel stiffened as if preparing for an attack, and it occurred to Sam that he’d probably never been hugged before. Then, just as suddenly, he turned to angel jello between Sam’s formidable arms. His whole body mushed up limply against Sam’s, he buried his face in Sam’s neck, and a low “Mmmmm” emitted from his throat.
Sam sidestepped out of the hug, all feelings of endearment dropped in favor of one big UM NO running through his brain. Castiel stumbled, nearly falling in the absence of a Winchester to lean into, and looked like he’d just lost his chance to go to Space Camp all over again. “Sam,” he said, collecting himself somewhat, “I would like for you to hug me again.”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said.
The angel blinked up at him, and Sam could just about see the gears whirring under the surface. “Please?” he tried.
“What? No.”
Castiel huffed slightly. Then in a ruffle of feathers, he disappeared.
“That was weird,” Dean observed, spitting out his toothpaste into the sink basin. “It was almost like he-AUGH!”
Castiel had appeared just beside him and wrapped his arms around the elder brother, hugging him awkwardly from the side. Dean cradled one arm around him as an instinctive reaction, even as he was trying to lean away. Castiel stared hard at him for a moment, then dropped his arms and disappeared with another huff.
“And that,” Sam said, “Was extra weird.”
*
The warmth of sunlight on his face and the mildewy smell of the motel room woke Sam. He turned over so the sun wasn’t shining directly in his eyes and opened them.
Castiel faced him with an intent stare, lying stiff as a board on the bed beside him.
“AUGH!” Sam said.
“Hug me again,” Castiel said, as if giving him heavenly orders.
“No,” Sam said, his nose crinkling.
“Very well, then,” Castiel said with a grave sigh, and disappeared.
“Whatssissit?” Dean slurred into his pillow on the next bed. “Sammy? S’Lucifer buggin’ you again?”
“If only,” Sam grumbled.
*
Sam’s phone rang on the way out of town the next afternoon.
“You’ve got some weird friends,” a familiar voice said when he picked up.
“Oh, hey, Ellen,” Sam said, mentally flinching. He hadn’t called her since the incident with War, and he fully expected a smack the next time he saw her. “What’s up?”
“Boy calling himself Castiel caught up with me and Jo. He said he knew you. Then he demanded hugs from us.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Yeah. When I said I’d rather not, he gave us quite the display of wingspan and said he was an angel of the lord. Couldn’t say no to that. You know something about this angel thing you haven’t told us, Sam?”
“Angels? I-” Sam thought quick. “KKsshhhhkkkk, sorry, Ellen-kkkssshhh-we’re going through a tunnel and-kkkrrrrssshhh-” He clicked the phone shut.
*
When they reached Bobby’s, the old hunter was waiting on his porch, halfway through a bottle of Jameson and surly as Sam had ever seen him.
“I just got touched by your angel,” he said as Sam and Dean approached, and the gravely tone of his voice made them both stop in their tracks. He glared at Sam. “He got on his knees to do it. Patted my back and everything. You owe me, boy.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You turned him down for hugs,” Bobby answered ominously. “You made him hug-crazy and brought hell and awkwardness down upon the people you care about, Sam. You need to fix this, even if it means being that poor renegade angel’s personal teddy bear.”
“I-I can’t, Bobby.” Sam shrugged his broad shoulders.
“And why not?”
“Because. It’s…weird.”
Dean got to sleep on the couch that night, while Sam had to sleep out in the car.
*
“Uh-huh. Shot him with a round of buckshot? Really? Well, yeah, of course he’s okay - he’s a freaking angel. Yeah, no, I’m sorry. Sam’s real sorry. We’re working on it.”
Sam listened from the passenger seat, slouched low in his seat with his own phone buzzing faintly on the dashboard. When Dean hung up, he asked, “Who’d he hug this time?”
“Rufus,” Dean answered, shaking his head at the road in front of them. “We are working on this, right?”
“I’m not hugging him.”
“Dammit, Sam! Why the hell not?”
Sam rolled over the answers in his head. He hadn’t been raised to be comfortable with hugging. Hugging Castiel would just encourage this hug-fiend behavior. The idea of it really weirded him out. But…something within him also warned him that, if he hugged Castiel, it might lead to other weird things. Weird things he wasn’t sure he didn’t want. Sam clamped his mouth shut and stared out at the road.
*
“Please,” Zachariah pleaded when they caught up to him in a warehouse in Maine. “Please, Sam, will you just do this one thing for the greater good of Heaven? He’s been driving us insane.”
“I don’t work for you,” Sam spat back.
Zachariah groaned helplessly. “Aw, c’mon, Sam. He’s pinned my smiting arm. And he’s got surprisingly strong hands!”
Castiel, firmly attached to his former superior via what could only be described as a death cuddle, stared over his shoulder at Sam. He didn’t have to speak. Sam knew what he wanted. He shook his head.
“Gotta give the guy credit,” Dean said as they left the warehouse a short time later. “Dude’s better than holy oil fire. I’ve never seen Zach so eager to spill his guts.”
*
It lasted two weeks. Two weeks of the phone ringing whenever an old friend or acquaintance got surprise hugs from an angel, two weeks of vague threats from the heavenly host whenever their paths crossed, two weeks of Sam swallowing down a strange, guilty feeling. Then, in the middle of the night, he answered an emergency text from Chuck.
“Big trouble here,” it said. “Need u to come alone plz.”
Sam left his brother a quick note, took off with the Impala, and flew across state lines to reach Chuck’s house at about three in the morning. The lights were on, and the prophet was waiting by the door.
“What is it?” Sam said as he burst in. “What’s wrong?”
Chuck gave him a soulful look and nodded toward the couch, where Castiel was seated, his arms affixed around a 70’s throw pillow.
“Aw, man,” Sam said under his breath.
“This can’t go on,” Chuck said, shaking his head. “You know it can’t, Sam.”
“Did he hug you?”
“Yes. Several times.” When Sam shot him a curious look, Chuck shrugged. “I’m cuddly. It’s a curse. Anyway, he poofed in in the middle of lunch with my beta reader and scared the crap out of him. Do you know how hard it is to find a good beta reader?”
Sam didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry - be there for him! Look at him.”
Castiel was staring up at him forlornly, his chin denting the pillow.
“He needs you,” Chuck said.
“But why me?” Sam said.
“It’s always been you, Sam.” The prophet laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You have arms like an orangutan, and you smell like fabric softener. I may be cuddly, but you’re downright snugglable. It’s something you need to face.”
“But I can’t-”
“You can.” Chuck offered him an encouraging smile. “I wrote that hug. I know how safe being pressed against your enormous chest made him feel - and I know how it made you feel. It’s okay, Sam. Opening your arms to him doesn’t mean opening your heart to him. Not all at once. You can do this.”
Sam looked into Castiel’s eyes, feeling the loneliness and the despair and the lost Space Camp prize package as if it were his own. He crossed the room and knelt before the couch, carefully removing the throw pillow from the angel’s grip. Castiel stared at him momentarily, then sank against him, the warmth of his body pressing against Sam’s. Sam closed his arms around Castiel and laid a hand in the angel’s hair, pressing their cheeks close.
“Mmmmmm,” Castiel said deep in his throat, and this time, Sam understood what it meant.
Answering the angel’s nonverbal request, he hugged him tighter. “There, there,” he said, rubbing a circle at the small of Castiel’s back. “I’ve got you. It’s all right.”
And weirdly, he realized, it actually was.
THE END!