671. There Are Different Types of Love....
(Taken shamelessly from mememaker's 126. I can love you in so many different ways. Because I looooove mememaker and this was one of my favorite memes.)
This meme deals with three types of love, angsty, sweet, and twisted! Please note that there are triggers abound!
- Post your characters and include preferences (if any!)
- Others reply.
- Go to RNG and enter numbers 1-3 ( Read more... )
This meme deals with three types of love, angsty, sweet, and twisted! Please note that there are triggers abound!
- Post your characters and include preferences (if any!)
- Others reply.
- Go to RNG and enter numbers 1-3 ( Read more... )
Sterling is silent for longer than Cas had expected, and just as he's finally taking that shot, just when he's about to give getting an answer up as a lost cause, Sterling speaks. Cas nearly chokes on the liquor, just narrowly avoids coughing it up all over the table; he isn't sure he's heard him right, so just to clarify:]
Your daughter?
[He'd never... But... What? If there was any single person on this earth (aside from himself, of course) that Cas could never picture as a parent, it'd be Sterling. While he isn't quite the most self-serving person Cas has ever met, he pretty close to the top of that list... Not that Cas holds it against him, of course, especially given the circumstances-- it's the end of the world, that's pretty much the only way to survive.
If it wasn't for Sterling's voice, and the grief evident on the man's face, Cas might have thought this was just a story, a cover... But in all the time Cas has known him, and all of the nights they'd spent talking over too much liquor, Cas has never heard him like this. It's strange and a bit heartbreaking, honestly.]
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But, not only does he think that Cas really wouldn't get the throwaway line anyway, but Sterling owes him more than that. He cares about Cas, cares about him in ways that he tried but could never manage with his wife. This whole thing is suddenly startlingly awkward, but he doesn't shut down, doesn't stop talking and instead focus on getting far too solidly drunk to talk about much of anything. This might not be comfortable, but he'd been the one that asked for something different, something that wasn't just sex. And it makes dealing with this all a little easier since Cas is here. He swirls liquor in his glass thoughtfully, watching the pale gold.]
I was married for a few years, right out of college. Almost funny really, I could con almost anything from anyone, but I couldn't get her to believe I was attracted to her -- she was right, of course.
[Sterling had never been interested in women. He'd written it off at first as usual, until after his marriage, until he'd met this man through a friend at his first job in insurance, before IYS. They'd hit it off, and one drunken night went just far enough to unravel his belief in his own heterosexuality. Sterling shrugged his shoulders, still felt guilty about not being the man he was supposed to be, even if he hadn't been able to help it.]
Olivia was a kid when we split, but I saw her on holidays, a few weekends, things like that. Not that I had a clue about being a father; I taught her chess and how to use people to get what you want. [A small pause.] She still loved me.
[Sterling has a surprised, almost awed tone to his voice. He'd never had any illusions about being good with children, and thought it was more a credit to Olivia than it said anything about unknown talent in that regard. Too proud to ask anyone for help picking out things for his daughter, and yet she accepted him anyway, as if it wasn't his fault her mother had left. He still remembers watching a Disney movie when she'd been about seven and how she'd very seriously and yet without judgement looked at him and asked if the man that came over sometimes was his Prince Charming. She'd always been almost too good at the things he taught her.]
I have to save her.
[Sterling set the glass down with its one remaining shot; really, if he was talking this much, he was clearly drunk enough -- any more and he'd be slurring his words.]
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And sad. Cas has had quite a few crises of identity during the course of his obscenely long life: he's worried about who he is in relation to Heaven; who he is in relation to God; and of course once he'd fallen, who he is to himself, once everything else had been stripped away from him- and he's more or less content with the fact that he truly is Just Cas now. Fortunately, among these crises, sexual identity has never really factored in anywhere- he truly has no preference and he's never had any issue expressing that. Sex is important to him, and as he imagines that must be the case for everyone else he can't imagine the strain that must have put on Sterling's life.
And to have a child thrown in there, well... It's not often Cas feels like he has anything to be grateful for but that's definitely what he's feeling now. Sterling sets the glass down, clearly done with the liquor and Cas does the same- he already has a pleasant fog going and this really isn't the time to drink himself into incoherence.]
You said you thought she-- [He's really trying to be delicate here, it's not exactly his forte... He shifts a bit closer, shoulder bumping into Sterling's.] What happened three years ago?
[He isn't touching Sterling's insistence that he needs to save her with a fifty foot pole, not yet. As much as he wishes this changed anything, he can't see any way that it would... Not without Sterling confiding in Dean this intimate detail of his life, which he really doesn't see happening.]
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He sighs at the question, nods slowly as his body leans into Cas. The man doesn't hold the sole monopoly on seeking physical affection to numb reality, after all. His story about how he thought he'd lost her isn't really spectacular or even unique, but he's willing to tell it anyway. Because it's Cas, because the man is also featured on that very short list of people he cares about.]
It wasn't too long after I got her back-- Her mother fell in with this real classy sort after a while; nuclear physicist involved with international terrorists and unstable regimes looking to get their hands on the technology. They got married, he relocated them to Dubai. One of his business deals went south, my ex-wife was killed, Olivia happened to get knocked clear in carbomb they used to voice their displeasure. He got custody of Olivia, and so I used a group of Hunters-slash-Robin-Hood-types to steal her back, through generally being something of a bastard.
[There was something in the way he said something of a bastard that betrayed that Sterling had actually been possibly an even worse person beforehand, if one could actually quite envision that. And even if it hadn't been overt, he'd apparently known something about the supernatural before things had gotten so bad it was no longer about faith or belief but simple, cold truth. The story from there was fairly typical, he'd been out of town, there'd been an outbreak, a quarantine. With his line of work, taking her with him would have just put her in more danger. And she'd had school and bodyguards. He'd thought it would be enough. And now... She wasn't dead. Sterling was still working through that, honestly.]
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One thing in particular catches his attention, though...]
Hunters? So you knew about this stuff before the virus hit?
[That's surprising. There are only a handful of people at the camp who'd been privy to what really goes on after dark before they'd had it shoved in their faces, and he hadn't imagined Sterling being one of them. He wonders what his first experience with the supernatural might have been...]
And so you thought... Until today--?
[It's rare, insanely, rare, for anyone to get a second chance like this... But somehow it just seems cruel, given the circumstances, and Cas thinks it might have been better if he'd never found out.]
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[There's a vague touch of dry humor, old amusement at the fact that the fore-mentioned group of Hunters had apparently at one point at least passingly considered the possibility that Sterling might be a demon. Of course, given the man's demeanor, it's not all that far of a stretch. In a sense, he had had it thrown in his face -- just in a way that predated the virus. He sighs, pulling Cas quietly up against him, his hands slipping underneath the hem of his shirt. Touching is easier than thinking about what used to be, than thinking about Nate and Eliot and Parker and the rest. He misses their rag-tag little group, strange as it is. They'd been useful on more than one occasion, and there'd been that pleasure to their scuffles and that one way or another he always came out on top.]
Not that I ever got into the whole saving the world bit, but I knew enough. Ended up being rather useful once or twice.
[He nods to Cas' question, a quiet assent and a brief pause before he's kissing him, sliding his other hand up into the man's hair. Because this is easy, this is comfort, and because apparently sometimes Sterling is just as bad about touch in place of words. Because he's said so much, and he doesn't quite know what else to say. As much as Sterling has pushed for slow sensuality, he wants-needs-craves the other man against him; everything he's been trying to linger on just the other side of. But this is just too much to take alone, and so he kisses him hard with lips bitter from alcohol.]
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Yeah, the 'saving the world bit' is probably better left to the experts anyway…
[And by experts he means of course those with little to no sense of self preservation and daddy issues a mile wide. He should know, he fits at least half of that description and has been surrounded for the recent past by perfect specimens of 'experts'.
He isn't surprised when Sterling only nods and then leans forward to press their lips together; if he were in the other man's position he'd have stopped talking three shots ago. The hand at the man's thigh moves curl over his waist, thumb stroking soothing patterns against soft fabric as he tilts his head into the kiss. It's saving him the trouble of having to come up with the right thing to say, which if he's honest he's really no better at now than he was when he'd first fallen.
This is so much easier, and so he does what he does best: lets his hands move slowly over Sterling's body and sighs into the slide of fingers through his hair. Shifting in his chair so that he's more or less facing the other man, he leans closer, wraps his hand more firmly around his side. It's really the best he can offer.]
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[There's a hint of humor and sadness there, when the kiss breaks and Sterling mouths words and kisses into Cas' jaw. Of course, with the Apocalypse hitting, Hunters became fast casualties. Someone died and tight-knit groups were torn apart. It had been unfortunate, but that was how it went. It was the end of the world, what about this mess wasn't unfortunate? Leverage Associates hadn't lasted. Not without Sophie. It played out much like he was sure Nate had always known it would: Parker and Eliot survived. Though with the world as it was, it was beyond his capabilities to track them down anymore. Sterling slipped closer, until he was more on Cas' chair than sitting on the couch. Closer. He needed it.]
A bitter alcoholic who could figure out the answer to anything except women, a nerd that could violate anything with an electric current, the most socially awkward person I've ever met, a woman that could lie to anyone, and a man convinced of his own immortality, an annoying lack of understanding for what makes a good plan, and a fondness for cheap liquor, easy women and beating me into bar tables.
[The first and the last had almost definite notes of affection. But that just made him even more interested in the distraction of skin and body and pulling that shirt off of Cas' frame. Well, all of the man's clothes, for that matter, but he was starting with his shirt. Hands palming over bare skin, touching, a low murmur on his lips as he nibbled along a stubbled jaw, as if touch could drown misery memories in pleasure in ways that alcohol just couldn't touch. Sterling was fairly certain that it could, especially given how long it had been since he'd indulged. He flirted with that line; sensuality/sexuality and just how far he wanted to go. This was headlong and needy; needed to not think about any of them for a while. Not his daughter, not dead friends, not lost people that had been more and less than rivals and lovers.]
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[It's mumbled softly as he tips his head back, exposing more of his neck and jaw to Sterling's mouth. Bitter alcoholic? Socially awkward? Convinced of his own immortality...? If it had been anything even remotely resembling the right time for it, Cas might have pointed out the hilarity of the crowd Sterling had been involved with.
But it isn't the time for that, not at all, and so he only nods and hums his acknowledgment, sliding his hands over the other man's arms before picking them up and allowing his shirt to be tugged over his head. The air is cool against his skin but Sterling's hands are warm, and he leans into the press of them, replacing his own hands at Sterling's shoulders and tilting his head to murmur softly against his ear. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say, of even if there's anything to say, and so he settles for pressing fingers soothingly against the muscles of Sterling's neck and shoulders; they're understandably tight, and that Cas knows how to handle.
He feels Sterling moving so that they're more or less occupying the same space, and he shifts so that he's straddling the man's lap, as much for comfort as for the closeness the position affords. He lets his hands palm down his chest, fingers unbuttoning his suit jacket as they move lower. If there's anything Cas knows how to do, it's be a good distraction.]
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There's a soft breath of appreciation as Cas lifts his arms, lets Sterling pull the shirt off over his head. He likes the way that Cas murmurs against his ear, wordless. Sterling doesn't need words, isn't sure there are any words to say, at least for now. Maybe soon there can be words about exactly what sexual position they're going for and oh yes, more, but for the moment, those are the only sort of words he really wants. At least enough to melt this away, to distract him from thoughts and wants and every craving except for the one straddling his lap. His fingers of one hand going to Cas' pants, unfastening and tugging off his hips as best he can with their bodies wedged tight. But he doesn't want to give up proximity any more than he wants to stop. He does pause briefly, sliding his suit coat to the ground in atypical carelessness.
His hands palming over Cas' chest, warm touches, needy in a way that Sterling would never betray to anyone else. He needs Cas. He'd known it since before he asked that awkward question, but in the end it's as much a certainty that he'd need somewhere to turn to as much as wanting to be there for Cas, wanting whatever nameless thing it was over bottles and flirtation to be different. He nibbles against the side of his neck, sucks marks into skin, because he likes that, likes leaving marks. He likes the way pink and red color pale skin and eventually fade into purple. Cas hasn't asked him to stop yet, so he doesn't.
Sterling is heedless of all those broken, careful lines; his fingers curling around Cas' length with a low hum of breath. He needs to feel this, something to push away everything else, blinding and intense and pleasure. In the realm of being drunk enough for pathetic excuses, he likes to think that whatever this is is different enough he won't get lost in the wash of bodies and another convenient bed warmer.]
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He's further distracted by the scrape of teeth along the side of his neck, lips parted in a sigh as he feels the marks being sucked into his skin, that sensation that's just the right amount of pain to make him shiver; he should really be the one doing the distracting right now, but if this is how Sterling wants to be distracted, he'll find no complaints whatsoever from Cas. What he will find is hands moving over his body, tugging him closer, settling at the sides of his neck and gripping at the collar of his shirt.
Cas has had just enough to drink that he's almost moving on autopilot, body shifting into what feels good unconsciously; right now what feels good is Sterling, his mouth and hands and the feel of his body... He tips his head down as fingers curl around his length, nuzzling against Sterling's cheek and breathing out a hot sigh against the side of his neck. He shifts closer, pressing against the other man's lap and wondering why on earth they haven't done this before. His hands slip down to work at the buttons of that expensive dress shirt before whatever the reason had been comes to him.]
You're overdressed.
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He shivers when fingers settle against the sides of his neck, grip at that neatly buttoned collar and that expensive tie. It catches his breath in his throat, makes his eyes flutter through dark lashes as he pulls back from skin. He's looking into blue eyes as fingers lightly stroke against that erection, the stubble of Cas' jaw rough against Sterling's face, hot breath tickling against his neck. He gasps as Cas presses into his lap, as those hands work free the buttons of his shirt. At that complaint, Sterling smiles lightly, a lift of an eyebrow.]
Then fix it.
[Those lines so neatly drawn before so clearly disregarded, Sterling encouraging exactly what he'd always struggled against. He can't help it. He needs this, needs Cas, needs touch and skin and everything he's been carefully denying himself since he got here. Control finally coming loose, shredding around the edges because it hurts too much not to.]
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But, Sterling had the whole mess with convincing Dean not to kill his daughter to deal with. And, because neither of them could just come out and say something, Sterling picked a fight, they argued, and admittance was instead yelled as the bombshell answer to since when do you care about people, anyway. The dust settled, the air cleared, and Dean looked dark-faced as he said they needed a better plan.
And Sterling very cautiously gave him one. As suicidal as Cas might have chalked it up as, it was at least within Dean's range of acceptably-suicidal. Not to mention that conning people had been a good part of the Hunter job description, so he was perhaps more open to the possibility. Sterling, Cas, Dean and Risa were the ones chalked up to go. Cas and Sterling going as members of Interpol, which somehow seemed to have left Sterling with the task of getting their love guru out of his hemp and linen and into a suit.
He'd managed to pull together pieces that he thought would fit the man -- he was going out on a limb and assuming Cas didn't just have something tucked away somewhere. Black suit, white shirt, a blue on blue patterned tie Sterling had stolen from his own collection, and a pair of not-too-shabby black shoes in Cas' size he'd found in the back of a storage closet. He cautiously slipped through the bead curtain, a bit more of a spring to his step despite the dangerous situation they were about to go waltzing into. Maybe because of.]
Cas. How do you feel about suits?
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Not, however, nice enough to soften the blow of being expected to wear another suit.
He scowls at the garments presented to him, more than a little bit familiar and enough to dredge up memories best left forgotten, rotting in his cabin with that overcoat and always-backwards tie.]
I feel like I'd rather go naked.
[He takes the clothes anyway, though, because he understands why they're necessary; this cockamamie plan is really all they have, just a hair less suicidal than marching in with guns blazing, and so as much as the prospect of having to put those clothes on again really makes him want to curl up and die somewhere, he'll do it.
Sterling's daughter's life depends on it, and that's important enough that he's willing to suck it up.]
What's the plan, again?
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[He's smirking, but there is a faint note of sympathy as he hands over the clothes. Sterling doesn't bother to point out that he happens to think that Cas would look absolutely edible in a suit, even if it wasn't as well-tailored as the ones that he himself wears. He's trying to stay focused, but that image is particularly tempting. It's not that he's ever unaware of the peril that Olivia's in, he's simply aware that things are already moving along as best as they can. A few fantasies about Cas dressed up nice isn't going to change anything except maybe his mood. Sterling has been around camp for quite a while now, but not quite long enough to know of the other man's hangups with suits and trenchcoats; he mostly just chalks it up to the whole love guru thing.]
The short version is that we're waltzing into an army base, more or less lying to their face, and convincing them to move the line they're holding so we can save a camp of barely-surviving.
[And my daughter. But Sterling doesn't reiterate that part, he knows they're both aware of that underlying point. That thing that changes everything, makes Sterling actually give a damn outside of the tactical aspect of survival numbers. Depending on how many they come back with, it will fill in some of the people they've lost in the recent weeks. It's not just that certainty that verges on Pride that keeps him from really considering failure this time, it's equally as much that the price of failure is too high to contemplate.]
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I guess I'd rather wear a suit than a hail of gunfire.
[It's a close thing, though.
He frowns at the suit again before acknowledging defeat, stripping down to his boxers and tugging on the suit pants with a sour expression on his face. He buttoning them when he stops, frown deepening, and peers at Sterling skeptically.]
I hope there's more to this plan than just me in a suit.
[As dashing as he will certainly be, he doubts how effective that's going to be.]
Dean and Risa, what're they gonna be doing?
[Frankly, he can't believe that Dean had agreed to this, much less agreed to be a part of it. Risa, well... He hadn't really pegged her as the maternal type so much as the kick-your-balls-into-your-tonsils type... He has to wonder what's in it for her. Survivors are a selfish bunch, and rightfully so... Credit where it's due: Sterling must be good at what he does if he'd been able to convince two of the hardest people in the camp to help him.]
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