FIC: A Comfort Thing
I got a lovely response from the members over at sassy_otp on my SASSY fic, and I'm so grateful. I haven't written a fic in a long time, and I suppose I can now say that SASSY was my muse bahaha. Anyhoo, I'm keeping this (and all future fic and other fandom-related posts) unlocked, and I hope whoever reads it enjoys it. Love you all!
Title: A Comfort Thing
Author: Erika (aka oh_whimsical)
Pairing: SASSY
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,100
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x17.
Summary: A coda to “99 Problems.” After everything, Sam and Castiel both need a little comfort. Who better to seek it from than each other?
Sam stared absently out the window of the motel room, watching for a sign-any sign-of the Impala’s headlights heading back up the road. He’d been watching like this since Dean had taken off, trying-and failing-to get in touch with his brother, while Father Gideon slept soundly behind him, and Castiel… Well, Castiel hadn’t moved for hours. It was troubling, Sam had to admit, and his anger for Dean was nearly rivaled by the worry of Castiel’s comatose-like condition.
So when Sam heard the familiar rustle of a trenchcoat and a muted groan, he immediately turned his attention from the fruitless task of staring out the window to rushing to Castiel’s side.
“Cas? Cas, are you okay?”
“Dean?” Castiel croaked, and Sam tensed. Dean. Of course Dean would be the first order of business that Castiel would be concerned about.
“He’s gone, Cas.”
“Gone.” It wasn’t a question, nor did Castiel really seem all that surprised. Sam chalked it up to the residual effect from whatever the Whore had done to him because he knew that had Castiel been at full alert, he’d probably already have fluttered away to search for Dean. Instead, Castiel looked over his shoulder to see the sleeping Father Gideon on the other bed. “How is he?”
“He’s-” Not okay. Won’t be for a long time. Just like the rest of us. “He’ll be fine.” Castiel grunted in response, resting his head back against his pillow. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid Sam’s eyes, which was frustrating for reasons Sam couldn’t-or didn’t want to-put his finger on. “Cas?”
“Should we not be looking for Dean?”
“He won’t answer his phone. Anyway, I don’t think we’d get very far without a car. Especially not with the condition you’re in.”
“I apologize for my state. The spell she performed, it was… Debilitating.”
Sam let out a humorless laugh. Castiel, ever the understated. “No kidding. And you don’t have to be sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Are you okay?”
Castiel finally met his gaze, and Sam was startled by the vulnerability he saw in them. He’d never really been able to figure Castiel out; after all, Castiel spent most of his time with Dean, and when he and Sam were together, they were rarely alone. But in the last couple of days, he felt like he’d learned a lot more about the angel. Angel. Sam wondered how much angel was really left in Castiel. He’d lost his faith, lost his father; he’d found solace in drinking, which was certainly not very angelic; and now, he lay on the bed looking more defenseless than Sam had ever thought possible. All that, and he was still concerned about Sam’s state. Though, what else could Sam expect? They were Team Free Will; they should be looking out for each other. Were. Should. Dean.
“I-I, uh-” Sam struggled to find the right words to describe how he felt. But he couldn’t, there were no words. He felt furious, betrayed, terrified, miserable, hopeless, all these things for which words could do no justice. “No, Cas. I’m not.” He smirked. “Don’t ask stupid questions, remember?”
From the other bed, Father Gideon gave a distressed moan and shifted positions before he settled back into disturbed sleep. Great, Sam thought to himself. He shook a stray lock of hair from his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. I’m having a moment with my brother’s angel while the priest whose daughter we just killed watches. Well, sleeps. But still. His only consolation was the knowledge that at least God apparently didn’t give a shit. And that was hardly a consolation.
“Sam?”
Castiel’s voice startled Sam out of his thoughts, and he made the mistake of looking directly into Castiel’s questioning blue eyes. Sam had always known those eyes were that hypnotizing shade, but he’d never had the chance to really look at them. They bore into him now, with an intensity that raised goosebumps on his arms and sent a shiver down his spine.
“Yes?” Sam hated that he sounded so breathless. He felt like a seventeen-year-old girl about to be asked on her first date. He strained to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Now he sounded like Dean. But under that scrutinizing stare, all Sam could do was fidget.
“Where will you sleep?”
“Uh, good question.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue suddenly washing over him. He muffled a yawn behind his palm as he spoke aloud his options. “I guess there’s the couch. Or the floor.”
The corners of Castiel’s lip turned up slightly, and Sam couldn’t help but bite at his own. It was strange to see Castiel smile; strange, but in a good way that made Sam wonder what else those lips could do. Sam shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. This is Castiel, he reminded himself. You’re not allowed to think stuff like that about him.
“I don’t think the couch will properly contain you. And the floor is hardly a better alternative.”
Sam shrugged. “It’ll have to do.”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say, as though unsure if he should even say it, and Sam felt his heart start to beat just a little faster. “You could sleep in this bed,” Castiel finally said. If Sam would have even thought it was possible, he’d think Castiel even sounded shy. “If you do not mind sharing.”
Sam felt a grin break out across his face. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, I don’t mind,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. He settled himself next to the angel, who shifted his weight so there was even enough room for the both of them. The bed was small, which meant there had to be bodily contact. Sam didn’t mind, and it appeared that Castiel didn’t either. Sam cautiously began to caress Castiel’s hand with his thumb, hoping that Castiel would find it comforting rather than off-putting. “Thanks, Cas.”
They looked at each other-a couple inches and their noses would be touching-and an unspoken agreement passed between them. Right now, in this moment, there was to be no worrying. No thoughts of Lucifer or the impending Apocalypse. No thoughts of Dean and nothing of the future. Just the present moment.
“For what?”
“For this.”
And as Castiel’s fingers curled around his own and moved so that their lips met, Sam sent a silent prayer of gratitude up to God. Wherever he was.
Title: A Comfort Thing
Author: Erika (aka oh_whimsical)
Pairing: SASSY
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,100
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x17.
Summary: A coda to “99 Problems.” After everything, Sam and Castiel both need a little comfort. Who better to seek it from than each other?
Sam stared absently out the window of the motel room, watching for a sign-any sign-of the Impala’s headlights heading back up the road. He’d been watching like this since Dean had taken off, trying-and failing-to get in touch with his brother, while Father Gideon slept soundly behind him, and Castiel… Well, Castiel hadn’t moved for hours. It was troubling, Sam had to admit, and his anger for Dean was nearly rivaled by the worry of Castiel’s comatose-like condition.
So when Sam heard the familiar rustle of a trenchcoat and a muted groan, he immediately turned his attention from the fruitless task of staring out the window to rushing to Castiel’s side.
“Cas? Cas, are you okay?”
“Dean?” Castiel croaked, and Sam tensed. Dean. Of course Dean would be the first order of business that Castiel would be concerned about.
“He’s gone, Cas.”
“Gone.” It wasn’t a question, nor did Castiel really seem all that surprised. Sam chalked it up to the residual effect from whatever the Whore had done to him because he knew that had Castiel been at full alert, he’d probably already have fluttered away to search for Dean. Instead, Castiel looked over his shoulder to see the sleeping Father Gideon on the other bed. “How is he?”
“He’s-” Not okay. Won’t be for a long time. Just like the rest of us. “He’ll be fine.” Castiel grunted in response, resting his head back against his pillow. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid Sam’s eyes, which was frustrating for reasons Sam couldn’t-or didn’t want to-put his finger on. “Cas?”
“Should we not be looking for Dean?”
“He won’t answer his phone. Anyway, I don’t think we’d get very far without a car. Especially not with the condition you’re in.”
“I apologize for my state. The spell she performed, it was… Debilitating.”
Sam let out a humorless laugh. Castiel, ever the understated. “No kidding. And you don’t have to be sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Are you okay?”
Castiel finally met his gaze, and Sam was startled by the vulnerability he saw in them. He’d never really been able to figure Castiel out; after all, Castiel spent most of his time with Dean, and when he and Sam were together, they were rarely alone. But in the last couple of days, he felt like he’d learned a lot more about the angel. Angel. Sam wondered how much angel was really left in Castiel. He’d lost his faith, lost his father; he’d found solace in drinking, which was certainly not very angelic; and now, he lay on the bed looking more defenseless than Sam had ever thought possible. All that, and he was still concerned about Sam’s state. Though, what else could Sam expect? They were Team Free Will; they should be looking out for each other. Were. Should. Dean.
“I-I, uh-” Sam struggled to find the right words to describe how he felt. But he couldn’t, there were no words. He felt furious, betrayed, terrified, miserable, hopeless, all these things for which words could do no justice. “No, Cas. I’m not.” He smirked. “Don’t ask stupid questions, remember?”
From the other bed, Father Gideon gave a distressed moan and shifted positions before he settled back into disturbed sleep. Great, Sam thought to himself. He shook a stray lock of hair from his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. I’m having a moment with my brother’s angel while the priest whose daughter we just killed watches. Well, sleeps. But still. His only consolation was the knowledge that at least God apparently didn’t give a shit. And that was hardly a consolation.
“Sam?”
Castiel’s voice startled Sam out of his thoughts, and he made the mistake of looking directly into Castiel’s questioning blue eyes. Sam had always known those eyes were that hypnotizing shade, but he’d never had the chance to really look at them. They bore into him now, with an intensity that raised goosebumps on his arms and sent a shiver down his spine.
“Yes?” Sam hated that he sounded so breathless. He felt like a seventeen-year-old girl about to be asked on her first date. He strained to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Now he sounded like Dean. But under that scrutinizing stare, all Sam could do was fidget.
“Where will you sleep?”
“Uh, good question.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue suddenly washing over him. He muffled a yawn behind his palm as he spoke aloud his options. “I guess there’s the couch. Or the floor.”
The corners of Castiel’s lip turned up slightly, and Sam couldn’t help but bite at his own. It was strange to see Castiel smile; strange, but in a good way that made Sam wonder what else those lips could do. Sam shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. This is Castiel, he reminded himself. You’re not allowed to think stuff like that about him.
“I don’t think the couch will properly contain you. And the floor is hardly a better alternative.”
Sam shrugged. “It’ll have to do.”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say, as though unsure if he should even say it, and Sam felt his heart start to beat just a little faster. “You could sleep in this bed,” Castiel finally said. If Sam would have even thought it was possible, he’d think Castiel even sounded shy. “If you do not mind sharing.”
Sam felt a grin break out across his face. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, I don’t mind,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. He settled himself next to the angel, who shifted his weight so there was even enough room for the both of them. The bed was small, which meant there had to be bodily contact. Sam didn’t mind, and it appeared that Castiel didn’t either. Sam cautiously began to caress Castiel’s hand with his thumb, hoping that Castiel would find it comforting rather than off-putting. “Thanks, Cas.”
They looked at each other-a couple inches and their noses would be touching-and an unspoken agreement passed between them. Right now, in this moment, there was to be no worrying. No thoughts of Lucifer or the impending Apocalypse. No thoughts of Dean and nothing of the future. Just the present moment.
“For what?”
“For this.”
And as Castiel’s fingers curled around his own and moved so that their lips met, Sam sent a silent prayer of gratitude up to God. Wherever he was.