Supernatural // Join the Club (Adam/Samandriel)
Title: Join the Club
Author: terryh_nyan
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: slight slighty slightest Adam/Samandriel.
Genre: Coping With Character Death And Poorly Succeeding
Warnings: nope (in which I don't mean there's no warning, I mean the warning's "nope")
Rating: PG-13? Practically PG except for 8x10-references
Word Count: 1.831
Notes: Don't worry, all will make sense later. I'm planning on a few sequels but I must not say so unless I want my inspiration to bail on me, so I won't. You know nothing about the sequels. Set on a very crackish what-if-ish plane where angels get a Heaven too. The jazz music in the background is this and I strongly recommend you listen to it while you read.
As always, still not native. I apologise for mistakes of any kind. Feel free to bring them to my attention.
(I'm currently waiting for my AO3 account to activate. Three days top you'll be able to read it there. In the meantime, my lj will have to do).
Remember: every comment makes Samandriel a little drunker. You know you want this. (jk he's going to get drunk anyway eventually)
Summary: Team "Screwed Over By Team Free Will" finally gets officialised.
Join the Club
Samandriel woke up to jazz music, a curious fragrance, and the sensation of smooth mahogany against his cheek.
«Good, you’re awake». The sound of a foreign voice pulled him all the way out of his slumber. The angel raised his head wearily, slowly blinking his eyes open to the warm, dim lights of… where was he, again?
Whatever place that was, it was enveloped in the scent of something exotic he couldn’t quite place. He let his gaze wander. In front of him, Samandriel could see a great number of shelves, all filled with various sizes, shapes, and colours of bottles, each one with a different label on it. All around him were chairs and tables, neatly arranged throughout the spacious room; on the walls bottles didn’t cover, posters of all kinds of modern art had been hung up - just a few, though, so that the room preserved a sober look. He realized, shifting his gaze to what his hands were touching, that he’d been resting on what looked like a counter.
«You all take your sweet time to wake up, don’t you». The angel followed the voice to the other side of the counter. A boy with short, dirty blond hair was cleaning up the - already perfectly polished - wooden surface with a white piece of cloth. A pair of ice blue eyes briefly met his gaze. «Welcome to Heaven».
The boy threw the cloth over his shoulder, heading for a small machine between an ice maker and a mixer and pouring a handful of coffee beans into it.
If he hadn’t known it weren’t possible, he would’ve thought the boy who’d just talked to him was Michael’s former vessel.
«I… » Samandriel tried to clear his head enough for words to come to him in a vaguely logical order. «I can’t be in Heaven,» he muttered, at last. His mind was a royal mess, to the point that even processing what the boy was saying to him proved to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. There was something eating at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite wrap his finger around...
«Why’s that?»
The boy behind the counter calmly voiced the question that kept buzzing inside his head like a faulty radio transmission.
He was right. He was right but why? Why had he found so hard to believe that he was in Heaven? Why did he find it impossible, still?
«Because… » he had to pull a thread on the bundle his thoughts had become, had to unravel the knot; thinking too much would do him no good right now, he had to speak out loud whatever came to him first. That had been basic training for dealing with confusional state, it couldn’t be so hard.
He pulled.
«Because angels have no soul. They can’t go… »
And everything fell apart.
«… Oh».
His gaze ran to his hands in a matter of instants. He examined them closely, turning the palms upwards and back down several times as they trembled slightly. There wasn’t a single drop of blood.
He inhaled a deep, shaky breath. «I died,» he whispered, mostly to himself. The boy heard him still, though, because he replied in a quiet, low voice: «Looks like it». He shifted uncomfortably his eyes across the room, leaving an apologetic silence to fill it. There were a couple of things Adam had come to realise he couldn’t deal with very well: angels, and people who looked about to cry. The fact that this summed up both rather well did not help. At all.
Samandriel, however, wasn’t paying much attention to him in that moment. Memories of that night flowed back to the angel’s mind in a rush, all of it - the blood, the pain, the thorns, Crowley-
«Castiel… » he whispered, the word coming out of his lips almost broken. Sadness filled his eyes, one so deep and endless he didn’t think it would ever go away.
Adam carefully moved closer. «He sent you here too?» he offered, cleaning a small cup with the same cloth as before to keep his hands busy. Last time he’d heard that name, it’d been immediately followed by a very angry and very british “that bastard!”. This full-on grieving, though? A total first.
Samandriel seemed to snap out of his thoughts for a moment, raising his head and looking up like he’d just woken up from a confusing dream to an even more confusing reality. It suited him, after all. «What do you mean?» he asked, a curious note to his tone.
Adam placed the cup under the nozzle. «I mean,» he answered, pressing a few buttons here and there and making the machine purr to life, «you’re not the first one to pop here with that name on your lips. Though the last one did add “that bastard”» he mimicked a british accent, «and a punch on the counter just for emphasis».
He saw the angel shake his head with firm decision out of the corner of his eye. «Castiel is good,» he countered, the words coming out just as low, but with a fierce determination to them, one Adam honestly wouldn’t have expected from such a mild-looking guy. «And I… I have to tell him… » he couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, leaving it hanging mid-air as a river of new worries flooded his heart. «I need to be somewhere else,» he muttered at last.
Adam cast him a surprised glance as he looked right into his eyes, the clear expression on his face of someone who wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.
Sadly, that was the only answer he had to give. «I’m sorry,» he responded, honestly. «This slice of Heaven is kind of out-of-the-way. I don’t mean to kill your hopes, but, as far as I know, Earth and living angels’ Heaven are off-limits to us here».
Samandriel frowned. He was starting to lose the thread again. «How can I even be in Heaven?»
Adam shrugged. «I guess you’re just one of the lucky ones,» he said, plainly. The cup started to fill up with a dark liquid. «Or rather, the unlucky ones». He realised he wasn’t being all that clarifying when he noticed how Samandriel’s frown had only grown even wider. He sighed. «What I’m saying is, there’s very few of us here, and the one thing we all have in common is who screwed us over and sent us to this place». And, just like that, the angel blinked to a cup being placed right under his nose. «Drink up».
«I… » the angel hesitated, «I don’t need-»
«Trust me,» Adam cut him off, giving him a knowing look, «you do. Your head will feel clearer after this».
The angel eyed the cup suspiciously, but didn’t protest further. He inhaled the smoke coming from the coffee, recognising the scent as the one that he’d sniffed right after he’d woken up. It was a pleasant aroma, and for a moment it distracted him from his turmoil. He tried to take a sip.
And he winced. «It’s… bitter».
«Should’ve guessed you’ve got a sweet tooth like your brothers». He snatched the cup from under his nose with one swift move before he could say a word. He rolled it on the tip of his index finger, then grabbed it wholly with the palm; a second later, it was gone, completely vanished into thin air. The angel’s mildly disbelieving gaze made him smile. «Cool, huh? I got to learn small angel tricks too, here».
Samandriel just stared. Adam juggled a crystal glass behind his back, catching it mid-air with no trouble at all. «You said that we’re all here for the same reason,» he continued. «What do you mean?»
The boy placed a hand under his chin. «Hmm. That’s a bit crude to explain. You familiar with Dante’s Divina Commedia?».
The angel nodded. «I believe so, yes».
«From what I’ve gathered, it’s a bit like that. There’s different skies, or, at least, this one is. All the souls who come here have gone through somewhat the same stuff, especially in death». He turned on the ice machine. «Basically,» he concluded, figuring there wasn’t really a soft way to put it, «they all felt betrayal in their last moments».
Samandriel froze.
«Yeah, I know. Sucks».
He shook his head. «But I- I don’t blame Castiel for what happened. He wasn’t in control,» he stuttered, tripping over the words as his voice went more and more quiet. «He didn’t betray me».
Adam briefly went through the bottles, finally grabbing a transparent one labelled “Malibu”. «Doesn’t matter what you think right now,» he shrugged, pouring the liquid in the glass until it was half-full, «you still must’ve felt betrayed for one second there».
A thoughtful silence fell. The angel, reluctant that he was, tried to bring back those frantic instants; the pain that still lingered everywhere in his body, the relief, the despair. He could still feel his long-lost brother’s blade slicing through his vessel and his grace, and it hadn’t even been the worst thing he’d felt right then. His throat suddenly feels too tight for air.
He was once again pulled back into reality by two fingers snapping right in front of his face. «Now, now, this isn’t time for regrets. You’re not» he tapped his forehead with his finger, «turning emo on my watch». He turned around and quickly grabbed a glass filled with yellow-orange juice and ice. «This is exactly what a bartender’s for. We’re going to find out what you like and keep you from moping around like some heartbroken teenager. You’ve never even tasted alcohol, have you?»
«I… » Samandriel blinked with surprise. «I don’t think so?»
Adam nodded. «That’s what I thought. C’mon, try this. It should be sweet enough even for a coffee-allergic angel».
After staring at the glass for a handful of seconds, he tentatively took a sip. The fruity flavour of coconut and orange filled his mouth.
Adam grinned. Certain cocktails just have the power to light your face up like a Christmas tree, human or not.
«It’s… good,» the angel murmured, staring at the drink like something unearthly. The boy’s grin got even wider.
«Now!» Adam exclaimed, already starting on a new one, «You’re going to tell me what happened from the beginning. It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up».
Samandriel took a few seconds, before finally nodding. It’s not like he could do much else, anyway.
«I’ll tell you if you tell me».
dam nearly dropped a strawberry casket. Now, that had taken him by surprise.
Huh. Guy wasn’t so sheepish after all.
«Alright,» he agreed, «it’s fair. But you go first».
Every bartender has a particular charm that makes you want to tell them your life story. Dead or not. Fake bar or real bar. The jazz in the background wasn’t optional.
So Samandriel started talking.
Author: terryh_nyan
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: slight slighty slightest Adam/Samandriel.
Genre: Coping With Character Death And Poorly Succeeding
Warnings: nope (in which I don't mean there's no warning, I mean the warning's "nope")
Rating: PG-13? Practically PG except for 8x10-references
Word Count: 1.831
Notes: Don't worry, all will make sense later. I'm planning on a few sequels but I must not say so unless I want my inspiration to bail on me, so I won't. You know nothing about the sequels. Set on a very crackish what-if-ish plane where angels get a Heaven too. The jazz music in the background is this and I strongly recommend you listen to it while you read.
As always, still not native. I apologise for mistakes of any kind. Feel free to bring them to my attention.
(I'm currently waiting for my AO3 account to activate. Three days top you'll be able to read it there. In the meantime, my lj will have to do).
Remember: every comment makes Samandriel a little drunker. You know you want this. (jk he's going to get drunk anyway eventually)
Summary: Team "Screwed Over By Team Free Will" finally gets officialised.
Join the Club
Samandriel woke up to jazz music, a curious fragrance, and the sensation of smooth mahogany against his cheek.
«Good, you’re awake». The sound of a foreign voice pulled him all the way out of his slumber. The angel raised his head wearily, slowly blinking his eyes open to the warm, dim lights of… where was he, again?
Whatever place that was, it was enveloped in the scent of something exotic he couldn’t quite place. He let his gaze wander. In front of him, Samandriel could see a great number of shelves, all filled with various sizes, shapes, and colours of bottles, each one with a different label on it. All around him were chairs and tables, neatly arranged throughout the spacious room; on the walls bottles didn’t cover, posters of all kinds of modern art had been hung up - just a few, though, so that the room preserved a sober look. He realized, shifting his gaze to what his hands were touching, that he’d been resting on what looked like a counter.
«You all take your sweet time to wake up, don’t you». The angel followed the voice to the other side of the counter. A boy with short, dirty blond hair was cleaning up the - already perfectly polished - wooden surface with a white piece of cloth. A pair of ice blue eyes briefly met his gaze. «Welcome to Heaven».
The boy threw the cloth over his shoulder, heading for a small machine between an ice maker and a mixer and pouring a handful of coffee beans into it.
If he hadn’t known it weren’t possible, he would’ve thought the boy who’d just talked to him was Michael’s former vessel.
«I… » Samandriel tried to clear his head enough for words to come to him in a vaguely logical order. «I can’t be in Heaven,» he muttered, at last. His mind was a royal mess, to the point that even processing what the boy was saying to him proved to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. There was something eating at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite wrap his finger around...
«Why’s that?»
The boy behind the counter calmly voiced the question that kept buzzing inside his head like a faulty radio transmission.
He was right. He was right but why? Why had he found so hard to believe that he was in Heaven? Why did he find it impossible, still?
«Because… » he had to pull a thread on the bundle his thoughts had become, had to unravel the knot; thinking too much would do him no good right now, he had to speak out loud whatever came to him first. That had been basic training for dealing with confusional state, it couldn’t be so hard.
He pulled.
«Because angels have no soul. They can’t go… »
And everything fell apart.
«… Oh».
His gaze ran to his hands in a matter of instants. He examined them closely, turning the palms upwards and back down several times as they trembled slightly. There wasn’t a single drop of blood.
He inhaled a deep, shaky breath. «I died,» he whispered, mostly to himself. The boy heard him still, though, because he replied in a quiet, low voice: «Looks like it». He shifted uncomfortably his eyes across the room, leaving an apologetic silence to fill it. There were a couple of things Adam had come to realise he couldn’t deal with very well: angels, and people who looked about to cry. The fact that this summed up both rather well did not help. At all.
Samandriel, however, wasn’t paying much attention to him in that moment. Memories of that night flowed back to the angel’s mind in a rush, all of it - the blood, the pain, the thorns, Crowley-
«Castiel… » he whispered, the word coming out of his lips almost broken. Sadness filled his eyes, one so deep and endless he didn’t think it would ever go away.
Adam carefully moved closer. «He sent you here too?» he offered, cleaning a small cup with the same cloth as before to keep his hands busy. Last time he’d heard that name, it’d been immediately followed by a very angry and very british “that bastard!”. This full-on grieving, though? A total first.
Samandriel seemed to snap out of his thoughts for a moment, raising his head and looking up like he’d just woken up from a confusing dream to an even more confusing reality. It suited him, after all. «What do you mean?» he asked, a curious note to his tone.
Adam placed the cup under the nozzle. «I mean,» he answered, pressing a few buttons here and there and making the machine purr to life, «you’re not the first one to pop here with that name on your lips. Though the last one did add “that bastard”» he mimicked a british accent, «and a punch on the counter just for emphasis».
He saw the angel shake his head with firm decision out of the corner of his eye. «Castiel is good,» he countered, the words coming out just as low, but with a fierce determination to them, one Adam honestly wouldn’t have expected from such a mild-looking guy. «And I… I have to tell him… » he couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, leaving it hanging mid-air as a river of new worries flooded his heart. «I need to be somewhere else,» he muttered at last.
Adam cast him a surprised glance as he looked right into his eyes, the clear expression on his face of someone who wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.
Sadly, that was the only answer he had to give. «I’m sorry,» he responded, honestly. «This slice of Heaven is kind of out-of-the-way. I don’t mean to kill your hopes, but, as far as I know, Earth and living angels’ Heaven are off-limits to us here».
Samandriel frowned. He was starting to lose the thread again. «How can I even be in Heaven?»
Adam shrugged. «I guess you’re just one of the lucky ones,» he said, plainly. The cup started to fill up with a dark liquid. «Or rather, the unlucky ones». He realised he wasn’t being all that clarifying when he noticed how Samandriel’s frown had only grown even wider. He sighed. «What I’m saying is, there’s very few of us here, and the one thing we all have in common is who screwed us over and sent us to this place». And, just like that, the angel blinked to a cup being placed right under his nose. «Drink up».
«I… » the angel hesitated, «I don’t need-»
«Trust me,» Adam cut him off, giving him a knowing look, «you do. Your head will feel clearer after this».
The angel eyed the cup suspiciously, but didn’t protest further. He inhaled the smoke coming from the coffee, recognising the scent as the one that he’d sniffed right after he’d woken up. It was a pleasant aroma, and for a moment it distracted him from his turmoil. He tried to take a sip.
And he winced. «It’s… bitter».
«Should’ve guessed you’ve got a sweet tooth like your brothers». He snatched the cup from under his nose with one swift move before he could say a word. He rolled it on the tip of his index finger, then grabbed it wholly with the palm; a second later, it was gone, completely vanished into thin air. The angel’s mildly disbelieving gaze made him smile. «Cool, huh? I got to learn small angel tricks too, here».
Samandriel just stared. Adam juggled a crystal glass behind his back, catching it mid-air with no trouble at all. «You said that we’re all here for the same reason,» he continued. «What do you mean?»
The boy placed a hand under his chin. «Hmm. That’s a bit crude to explain. You familiar with Dante’s Divina Commedia?».
The angel nodded. «I believe so, yes».
«From what I’ve gathered, it’s a bit like that. There’s different skies, or, at least, this one is. All the souls who come here have gone through somewhat the same stuff, especially in death». He turned on the ice machine. «Basically,» he concluded, figuring there wasn’t really a soft way to put it, «they all felt betrayal in their last moments».
Samandriel froze.
«Yeah, I know. Sucks».
He shook his head. «But I- I don’t blame Castiel for what happened. He wasn’t in control,» he stuttered, tripping over the words as his voice went more and more quiet. «He didn’t betray me».
Adam briefly went through the bottles, finally grabbing a transparent one labelled “Malibu”. «Doesn’t matter what you think right now,» he shrugged, pouring the liquid in the glass until it was half-full, «you still must’ve felt betrayed for one second there».
A thoughtful silence fell. The angel, reluctant that he was, tried to bring back those frantic instants; the pain that still lingered everywhere in his body, the relief, the despair. He could still feel his long-lost brother’s blade slicing through his vessel and his grace, and it hadn’t even been the worst thing he’d felt right then. His throat suddenly feels too tight for air.
He was once again pulled back into reality by two fingers snapping right in front of his face. «Now, now, this isn’t time for regrets. You’re not» he tapped his forehead with his finger, «turning emo on my watch». He turned around and quickly grabbed a glass filled with yellow-orange juice and ice. «This is exactly what a bartender’s for. We’re going to find out what you like and keep you from moping around like some heartbroken teenager. You’ve never even tasted alcohol, have you?»
«I… » Samandriel blinked with surprise. «I don’t think so?»
Adam nodded. «That’s what I thought. C’mon, try this. It should be sweet enough even for a coffee-allergic angel».
After staring at the glass for a handful of seconds, he tentatively took a sip. The fruity flavour of coconut and orange filled his mouth.
Adam grinned. Certain cocktails just have the power to light your face up like a Christmas tree, human or not.
«It’s… good,» the angel murmured, staring at the drink like something unearthly. The boy’s grin got even wider.
«Now!» Adam exclaimed, already starting on a new one, «You’re going to tell me what happened from the beginning. It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up».
Samandriel took a few seconds, before finally nodding. It’s not like he could do much else, anyway.
«I’ll tell you if you tell me».
dam nearly dropped a strawberry casket. Now, that had taken him by surprise.
Huh. Guy wasn’t so sheepish after all.
«Alright,» he agreed, «it’s fair. But you go first».
Every bartender has a particular charm that makes you want to tell them your life story. Dead or not. Fake bar or real bar. The jazz in the background wasn’t optional.
So Samandriel started talking.