fic: fighting the shadow of somebody else
Title: fighting the shadow of somebody else
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Cas/Sam, mentions of Sam/Jess
Word Count: ~700
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: This all started from the Sam's bangs picspams being posted over at ontd_spnparty. It turned out less cracky than originally plotted (also more bang symbolism, wtf)
There's a light pressure on Sam's forehead, and if it wasn't so sticky hot in the motel room he would have sworn it was the breeze from the cracked open window. But there it is again, almost hesitant, and Sam's eyes flutter open to find Castiel crouched on the floor next to his bed, an almost guilty expression on his face.
"Cas?" Sam's voice is rough from sleep, and he glances at the clock. 3:47. The other bed is still made, nothing surprising to Sam. They were all close to reaching the ends of their respective ropes yesterday, snapping and grumbling in the heat and the long drive, and had finally decided that a quick break was needed. Dean's eyes had lit up at some of the bars they had passed, and really, Sam would be surprised if he came back to the motel tonight at all.
"Cas." Sam repeats his name, a little louder this time. While Sam's gotten used to Cas' oddities, there's still something a little disconcerting about waking up this way.
"You've changed." Castiel's voice is soft, and Sam wonders if Cas has finally found a way to get himself drunk, cause that's what this is quickly reminding him of.
"Umm, yeah? We've talked about this before, Cas. I know, and I'm trying to make up for the stuff I've done." Sam props himself up on an elbow as he starts to wake up.
"No." Cas' voice is firm, and Sam tries not to move when Castiel reaches out towards him. There's a soft tug on Sam's hair, and he doesn't' realize he's closed his eyes until the hair brushing against his eyelids starts to tickle.
"What are you doing, Cas?" He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the way it feels. The last time he'd been touched like this, soft tangled caressing, it had been Jess. Jess murmuring him to sleep and curling up tight against him when he had nightmares, brushing his bangs out of his face and not demanding any explanation.
He can't pinpoint when he changed, grew his hair out and brushed it back; just knew that once he did, he started to sleep a little better, didn't have to worry that he'd wake up in the night, breathless and sweaty, thinking that Jess was back by his side.
Castiel doesn't answer, the movement of his fingertips sure against Sam's forehead. Sam can feel the hair shifting forward, the way his face heats up even more, but he can't bring himself to question Cas again, to ask him to stop. He shivers when Cas' fingers brush over the curve of his ear, can't hold back the soft broken noise that escapes him, and Sam prays that Dean doesn't decide to come back now.
"Sam." Cas is softly demanding, his fingers slowly petting Sam's bangs across his forehead. It's comforting and reassuring, everything that Jess did, but it's different enough to where Sam feels strong enough to open his eyes.
Cas is kneeling now, one hand kneading his pants, the other slow and methodical against Sam's skin. "I'm sorry. For everything." It looks like he wants to say more, but he closes his mouth and avoids Sam's gaze.
It's hot and sticky in the motel room, the busted A/C mocking them from across the room. But Sam doesn't care. He reaches out, cupping Cas' chin in his hand and secretly relishes the look of surprise in Cas' eyes when he finally looks back up at Sam.
"Come here," he murmurs, already starting to fall back asleep. His hand drops to Cas' shoulder, and Sam tugs on the jacket. "Take 'em off." He pulls his hand back, rolling over to face the center of the bed, and flips his pillow over, hoping the other side has had a chance to cool down.
Sam can feel his hair moving, a soft sudden shift that leaves him wanting to scratch at it, push it all back behind his ears. But Cas catches his wrist before he does so, slides in next to Sam under the sheet and pins his arm down. "Let go, Sam," he whispers, and Sam does, falling asleep to Castiel's touch.
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Cas/Sam, mentions of Sam/Jess
Word Count: ~700
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: This all started from the Sam's bangs picspams being posted over at ontd_spnparty. It turned out less cracky than originally plotted (also more bang symbolism, wtf)
There's a light pressure on Sam's forehead, and if it wasn't so sticky hot in the motel room he would have sworn it was the breeze from the cracked open window. But there it is again, almost hesitant, and Sam's eyes flutter open to find Castiel crouched on the floor next to his bed, an almost guilty expression on his face.
"Cas?" Sam's voice is rough from sleep, and he glances at the clock. 3:47. The other bed is still made, nothing surprising to Sam. They were all close to reaching the ends of their respective ropes yesterday, snapping and grumbling in the heat and the long drive, and had finally decided that a quick break was needed. Dean's eyes had lit up at some of the bars they had passed, and really, Sam would be surprised if he came back to the motel tonight at all.
"Cas." Sam repeats his name, a little louder this time. While Sam's gotten used to Cas' oddities, there's still something a little disconcerting about waking up this way.
"You've changed." Castiel's voice is soft, and Sam wonders if Cas has finally found a way to get himself drunk, cause that's what this is quickly reminding him of.
"Umm, yeah? We've talked about this before, Cas. I know, and I'm trying to make up for the stuff I've done." Sam props himself up on an elbow as he starts to wake up.
"No." Cas' voice is firm, and Sam tries not to move when Castiel reaches out towards him. There's a soft tug on Sam's hair, and he doesn't' realize he's closed his eyes until the hair brushing against his eyelids starts to tickle.
"What are you doing, Cas?" He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the way it feels. The last time he'd been touched like this, soft tangled caressing, it had been Jess. Jess murmuring him to sleep and curling up tight against him when he had nightmares, brushing his bangs out of his face and not demanding any explanation.
He can't pinpoint when he changed, grew his hair out and brushed it back; just knew that once he did, he started to sleep a little better, didn't have to worry that he'd wake up in the night, breathless and sweaty, thinking that Jess was back by his side.
Castiel doesn't answer, the movement of his fingertips sure against Sam's forehead. Sam can feel the hair shifting forward, the way his face heats up even more, but he can't bring himself to question Cas again, to ask him to stop. He shivers when Cas' fingers brush over the curve of his ear, can't hold back the soft broken noise that escapes him, and Sam prays that Dean doesn't decide to come back now.
"Sam." Cas is softly demanding, his fingers slowly petting Sam's bangs across his forehead. It's comforting and reassuring, everything that Jess did, but it's different enough to where Sam feels strong enough to open his eyes.
Cas is kneeling now, one hand kneading his pants, the other slow and methodical against Sam's skin. "I'm sorry. For everything." It looks like he wants to say more, but he closes his mouth and avoids Sam's gaze.
It's hot and sticky in the motel room, the busted A/C mocking them from across the room. But Sam doesn't care. He reaches out, cupping Cas' chin in his hand and secretly relishes the look of surprise in Cas' eyes when he finally looks back up at Sam.
"Come here," he murmurs, already starting to fall back asleep. His hand drops to Cas' shoulder, and Sam tugs on the jacket. "Take 'em off." He pulls his hand back, rolling over to face the center of the bed, and flips his pillow over, hoping the other side has had a chance to cool down.
Sam can feel his hair moving, a soft sudden shift that leaves him wanting to scratch at it, push it all back behind his ears. But Cas catches his wrist before he does so, slides in next to Sam under the sheet and pins his arm down. "Let go, Sam," he whispers, and Sam does, falling asleep to Castiel's touch.