Alice Had It Easy 1/2 (Castiel/Sam, bodyswap, PG-13)ravenspearOctober 17 2011, 07:46:07 UTC
You never really know what you’ve got until you lose it, the saying goes, and Sam definitely agrees.
He’s never really considered his height, other than the occasional “hey, I’m pretty tall!” moment, but now that he’s suddenly trapped in Jimmy Novak’s body, he really sort of desperately misses it; feels small and dwarfed by everything, like the Impala, his bed at Bobby’s, the kitchen cupboards that he suddenly has to reach for to open. And Dean, who he suddenly has to incline his head upwards to look in straight in the eyes (eyes that are always wide and startled every time he looks at Sam anymore).
And Castiel is definitely not helping.
Castiel, who’s always been able to send chills down Sam’s spine (and not always in the bad way, either) with his staring, the way he’ll crowd into Sam’s space, the way he just projects a sense of largeness, of vastness.
Castiel, who now towers tall and big, and the sense vastness is magnified a thousandfold as he looks down at Sam. (And thank God that Sam can barely recognize himself in his face anymore; can only see Castiel in the unsmiling lips, the wide eyes, the way he cocks his head as he stares.)
Castiel, who looks pleasantly surprised when he puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders, examines the size of them against Sam’s frame, looks excited when slides his hand up to cup his neck, tilt his head up with a thumb.
(Castiel, who’s always been a little bit menacing, and that’s been kind of sexy, but right now, with Sam feeling small and insecure, and Castiel so fucking huge, it just doesn’t feel that good anymore.)
Sam just can’t fucking take it. “Cas, stop it,” he demands, pushes Castiel’s hands away, steps away. “This is so not happening right now.”
And fuck Castiel for looking hurt and confused at Sam’s brusqueness. Because while Sam may have never turned down his advances before, he should get that this shit is messing with Sam’s equilibrium.
“Sam?” Castiel tries, and Sam is always astounded to hear that deep rasp coming from his own mouth. “You’re upset,” he continues, frowning when his hand lands on Sam’s arm and Sam flinches to feel it.
“Yeah, no shit,” he replies, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as he backs up from Castiel and his looming and obnoxious goddamn tallness.
“You’re...” And Sam can hear the way Castiel’s shoulders slump, the awkward, human shuffle of his feet as he takes a step back. “You’re frightened of me,” he says, and he sounds wounded, like Sam just stabbed him with his own sword and then twisted the blade.
And this... Yeah, this isn’t going very fucking well at all. “Cas, no, I’m not-”
“Don’t lie,” Castiel interrupts him, and his eyes are angry when Sam lifts his face up to meet them. “Don’t.”
And Sam feels guilty, because they’d sworn, after everything, that there would be no lies anymore, not after everything they’ve been through (everything they’ve done to each other; scars and nightmares that they try so hard to forget). “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to lie. I just don’t know what to say.”
Castiel keeps a respectful distance, but Sam sees the way his hands twitch, wanting to reach out, and he hates how his stomach goes cold to think of it.
“I am afraid,” he says finally, voice coming out steadier than he’d dared to hope.
Castiel averts his eyes, looks guilty and hurt and helpless. “I see. Should I leave?”
Yes. “No. Don’t- Please stay, Cas,” he pleads, gets over himself enough to reach out, burying his fingers in the green cloth of his jacket before Cas decides to fly off and do whatever stupid angels do when they’re hurt (like drink entire liquor stores and ruin Sam’s liver forever).
Alice Had It Easy 2/2 (Castiel/Sam, bodyswap, PG-13)ravenspearOctober 17 2011, 07:47:04 UTC
“It wasn’t my intention to frighten you,” Castiel says, tentative and awkward and honest, and Sam feels a warm little flutter in his stomach at it.
“I know. It’s not your fault,” Sam says, fingers uncurling until his hand is just resting flat on Castiel’s arm. “This whole situation is just messing with my head. I feel... vulnerable, like this.”
“Like you’re too small,” Castiel says softly, understanding.
“Yeah. And you just seem to be enjoying everything, and that’s okay-”
“No, it’s not,” Castiel interrupts, gently, like he’s trying to talk down a spooked horse, and Sam wants to tell him he’s not frail, except he really feels like it right now. “I was being selfish. I... I like this. In my true form, I tower, and this... feels comfortable. Natural.” He sighs, and his fingers are warm when they come up to cover Sam’s hand on his arm. “I didn’t consider how you’d react to this change. I have felt something like what you must feel, and I should have remembered.”
And it’s that self-recriminating admission that has Sam relaxing into Castiel, sighing as he rests his weight against him. Castiel doesn’t mean any harm; doesn’t mean to be terrifying and inhuman and more than Sam would ever dare to believe he could handle. He’s just an awkward angel who tries his best and occasionally makes a mess of things. He’s just a person who loves Sam, despite and because of everything.
“It’s fine,” Sam mumbles into his chest. “You’ll make it up to me.”
He’s never really considered his height, other than the occasional “hey, I’m pretty tall!” moment, but now that he’s suddenly trapped in Jimmy Novak’s body, he really sort of desperately misses it; feels small and dwarfed by everything, like the Impala, his bed at Bobby’s, the kitchen cupboards that he suddenly has to reach for to open. And Dean, who he suddenly has to incline his head upwards to look in straight in the eyes (eyes that are always wide and startled every time he looks at Sam anymore).
And Castiel is definitely not helping.
Castiel, who’s always been able to send chills down Sam’s spine (and not always in the bad way, either) with his staring, the way he’ll crowd into Sam’s space, the way he just projects a sense of largeness, of vastness.
Castiel, who now towers tall and big, and the sense vastness is magnified a thousandfold as he looks down at Sam. (And thank God that Sam can barely recognize himself in his face anymore; can only see Castiel in the unsmiling lips, the wide eyes, the way he cocks his head as he stares.)
Castiel, who looks pleasantly surprised when he puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders, examines the size of them against Sam’s frame, looks excited when slides his hand up to cup his neck, tilt his head up with a thumb.
(Castiel, who’s always been a little bit menacing, and that’s been kind of sexy, but right now, with Sam feeling small and insecure, and Castiel so fucking huge, it just doesn’t feel that good anymore.)
Sam just can’t fucking take it. “Cas, stop it,” he demands, pushes Castiel’s hands away, steps away. “This is so not happening right now.”
And fuck Castiel for looking hurt and confused at Sam’s brusqueness. Because while Sam may have never turned down his advances before, he should get that this shit is messing with Sam’s equilibrium.
“Sam?” Castiel tries, and Sam is always astounded to hear that deep rasp coming from his own mouth. “You’re upset,” he continues, frowning when his hand lands on Sam’s arm and Sam flinches to feel it.
“Yeah, no shit,” he replies, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as he backs up from Castiel and his looming and obnoxious goddamn tallness.
“You’re...” And Sam can hear the way Castiel’s shoulders slump, the awkward, human shuffle of his feet as he takes a step back. “You’re frightened of me,” he says, and he sounds wounded, like Sam just stabbed him with his own sword and then twisted the blade.
And this... Yeah, this isn’t going very fucking well at all. “Cas, no, I’m not-”
“Don’t lie,” Castiel interrupts him, and his eyes are angry when Sam lifts his face up to meet them. “Don’t.”
And Sam feels guilty, because they’d sworn, after everything, that there would be no lies anymore, not after everything they’ve been through (everything they’ve done to each other; scars and nightmares that they try so hard to forget). “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to lie. I just don’t know what to say.”
Castiel keeps a respectful distance, but Sam sees the way his hands twitch, wanting to reach out, and he hates how his stomach goes cold to think of it.
“I am afraid,” he says finally, voice coming out steadier than he’d dared to hope.
Castiel averts his eyes, looks guilty and hurt and helpless. “I see. Should I leave?”
Yes. “No. Don’t- Please stay, Cas,” he pleads, gets over himself enough to reach out, burying his fingers in the green cloth of his jacket before Cas decides to fly off and do whatever stupid angels do when they’re hurt (like drink entire liquor stores and ruin Sam’s liver forever).
Reply
“I know. It’s not your fault,” Sam says, fingers uncurling until his hand is just resting flat on Castiel’s arm. “This whole situation is just messing with my head. I feel... vulnerable, like this.”
“Like you’re too small,” Castiel says softly, understanding.
“Yeah. And you just seem to be enjoying everything, and that’s okay-”
“No, it’s not,” Castiel interrupts, gently, like he’s trying to talk down a spooked horse, and Sam wants to tell him he’s not frail, except he really feels like it right now. “I was being selfish. I... I like this. In my true form, I tower, and this... feels comfortable. Natural.” He sighs, and his fingers are warm when they come up to cover Sam’s hand on his arm. “I didn’t consider how you’d react to this change. I have felt something like what you must feel, and I should have remembered.”
And it’s that self-recriminating admission that has Sam relaxing into Castiel, sighing as he rests his weight against him. Castiel doesn’t mean any harm; doesn’t mean to be terrifying and inhuman and more than Sam would ever dare to believe he could handle. He’s just an awkward angel who tries his best and occasionally makes a mess of things. He’s just a person who loves Sam, despite and because of everything.
“It’s fine,” Sam mumbles into his chest. “You’ll make it up to me.”
Reply
*cuddles up with fic*
Reply
*cuddles you*
Reply
Leave a comment