Hug it out, bitch (Part 2)maskedfangirlNovember 8 2009, 11:20:30 UTC
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.
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.
*
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