bakerstreet | is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

Just share the damn bed with me.

For whatever reason, the floor is an unacceptable place to sleep. It's messy, the dog is there, THE FLOOR IS LAVA, there's flooding, feels weird, or it's too dirty to walk on. Who cares why it's not acceptable, it just isn't! Normally, that's not an issue, but tonight you have a friend over. Maybe it's the safest place, maybe it's hurricane season and your house is the only one out of the path of the storm. Are they mooching off you? Stop trying to figure out the details! Just get over it and share the bed with that person! Sexy times are not required. Intimacy is not required. Just share the damn bed already.

Do you need options? DO YOU? Here! Have some options!

1. It's late. You're tired. Too tired to drive and THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
2. It's late. You're drunk. Too drunk. Honestly, how did you drink that much and not die? Should we take you to the hospital? Here, just stay in this bed with me. No, you can't sleep on the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
3. It's early. You thought you'd just come by and visit but you can barely function. The bed seems inviting. Guess what, you're invited into the bed! Yes. The bed. Not the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
4. DO YOU LIKE TO CUDDLE? CUDDLING IS OKAY. And yes, the floor is lava.
5. WILDCARD. Just figure out a reason why you need to share the bed. But don't forget: the floor is lava!
6. The Crack Fun Insane Option - Actually play the Floor is Lava Game!! Move about the room without touching the floor... because the floor is seriously lava.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Sam's room has become Castiel's safe sanctuary, what with the TV being there and him not having a room that's designated as his own. Not that he needs one since he neither sleeps nor does he keep belongings of his own, all he needs is right there in Sam's room and Sam doesn't use it much anyway. So that's where he stays most of the time, glued to the TV, gradually getting more and more comfortable in the space. It's gotten to the point where he has started shedding layers of his clothing, even moving from the chair next to bed to sitting on the bed itself. It's very much apparent in his current position: seated on the bed, slumped back against the headboard with his legs tucked close while his coat, blazer and tie lie abandoned on the chair with his shoes somewhere in the vicinity.

It's as comfortable as he's going to get in his current miserable state. The misery at least easy to tune out thanks to the wonders of Netflix and television. It's so easy to get caught up in the stories, to lose himself in them and feel safe in the knowledge that they're not real. He can forget for a while everything terrible that's happened and is happening, so long as he can keep watching in the safety of the bunker. It's also very easy to lose track of time when binge watching is all he does.

He doesn't realize how late it is until he hears the door open, tearing his eyes away from the TV to see Sam entering the room. He sits up straighter with sluggish movements, blinking tired eyes owlishly as he glances around for the remote. ]

Do you want me to leave?

( castiel has brought all kinds of new meaning to the term "netflix and chill."

and sam doesn't mind it; with how acclimated he and dean have gotten to having the angel around at any given time, offering up help or advice when he thinks it might be helpful, it would feel empty without his presence. sam especially would notice, he thinks, the lack of trench coat and gravelly quips, with the careful bond they've been forming lately. closer and closer, even though it's taken them years to get to this point, he's never given up on the hope that they would one day be more than careful acquaintances, with everything that the winchesters have seen since the beginning of the end of the world.

even if they hadn't started off on the right foot – even when he'd been an abomination, he's since managed to redeem himself and the three of them are this sort of … tight-knit little unit in which they function better, are stronger together and weaker apart.

to put it mildly, he's thankful for castiel's lingering around. he enjoys his company, especially when dean is off on one of his own stints ( which, of course means he's sulking about one thing or another ), because it means that he doesn't have to be alone, and for as much as he's managed to get used to it over the years, he's always going to be one of those people that far prefers the company of others.

so – he's not entirely sure of the hour when he trudges into his room, opens the door with a heavy hand that boasts full-body fatigue, but it doesn't surprise him much to find castiel stretched out in his bed with the tv on. even gives a small smile as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, boots thudding almost hollowly with every step until he's near enough to the edge of the bed for him to plop down and rub at tired eyes. )

No no, you don't have to. ( he gives a little chuckle, genuine and soft. ) You look comfortable. What're you binge-watching this time?

[ His gaze is automatically drawn back to Sam as he sits down on the bed and speaks, taking in the tired lines of his shoulders, the fatigue clear in heavy limbs and eyes. The sight turns his expression skeptical for a brief moment, but the chuckle is enough to put him at ease and Castiel abandons his search for the remote to sink back against the headboard again, though the slight pang of guilt at having forgotten the time isn't entirely assuaged. It's still Sam's room, after all, and although Castiel doesn't need to sleep, Sam does.

But it's not like he wants to leave, he is pretty comfortable right where he is and Sam's company tends to be enjoyable. As much as he cares about Dean, sometimes he can be a difficult person to be around and it's different with Sam. Sam's presence can be easier and they've certainly come a long way from when they first met and Castiel was still blinded by prejudice. He knows better now, knows the goodness in Sam's heart, and he's glad he gets to call Sam his friend despite everything that's happened and the mistakes they both have made along the way.

Castiel has something that's close to being a home here, safe and sound in the bunker in the company of the two people he cares about most, and he's grateful for it. Grateful that he's not turned away again, that's he's allowed to stay this time. It's all he wanted when he fell and he needs it right now when he feels just as lost as he did then.

At least he's not alone this time around. ]

I'm finishing Orange is the New Black. [ He nods at the TV before glancing back, eyes narrowing in concern. ] Are you sure you want me to stay? You need rest.

( for all that it means something to him that castiel is so considerate of his needs, human or otherwise, there's still a part of him that would get it into his head that he doesn't always have to … get out of the way, for lack of better phrasing, when these things come around. castiel is welcome in sam's room any time at all, whether he's there or not, and to say that he does appreciate the company would have been putting it rather mildly, whether he openly admits to it or not.

or, and that whole dean-being-difficult-to-be-around thing? he knows that – probably better than anyone else on the entirety of the planet – and yeah, all right, sometimes it is nice for it to be just the two of them. they're more alike than either of them realize, with a penchant for quiet and a leaning toward awkwardness when it comes to certain social conventions, and they understand one another better than they had when castiel had first put not only himself, but the angels as a whole in their lives. ( and effectively turned everything upside down, but that's neither here nor there. )

there are no words for how far they've come since those years past, and while sam can't think to be anything but grateful for it himself, there's a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he still – always – has something to atone for. to make himself look better, more polished in the eyes of a celestial being, even if that celestial being has taken to nearly literally becoming a couch potato and absorbing television shows like he was made for nothing else.

sam sighs lightly, a small sound that catches in the back of his throat as he all but collapses back on the mattress, feet still planted on the floor so the action finds him landing somewhere in the very middle, the length of his frame still taking up an impressive bit of space as he rolls his shoulders. hoping that something might give, the tension might break just a bit in a pop of bone and cartilage, but it doesn't quite get the result he's looking for and there's a brief twinge in his expression, something that could very easily be missed if one weren't paying proper attention.

orange is the new black, huh … that's one he hasn't looked into yet. maybe he'll do that sometime soon. )

Haven't caught that one, myself. ( there's another chuckle, and he relaxes infinitesimally, barely able to fight back a yawn. ) I'm sure, really. I can rest and play catch up at the same time. ( he tilts his face upward, just enough to catch what is probably the worried-concerned flicker in castiel's own expression, the corner of his mouth turning up in the smallest hint of a smirk. ) Please tell me you've at least come out of my room once while I was gone. You have to stretch your legs every once in a while.

[ Guilt is something that seems to be perpetually pouring off of Sam, Castiel is well aware. It's something that had once been grating to him, back when they barely knew each other, when Sam was just the boy with the demon blood to him. But he understands better now what it is like to feel guilt than he did back then. He's gone on to make terrible, grave mistakes, committing atrocities that Sam couldn't even hold a candle to. He has so much to feel guilty about and to atone for himself, he understands Sam all the better for it, can more easily see their similarities. (It helps too that he's experienced the depth of human emotions for himself.) Sam hasn't been just the boy tainted by demon blood, brother to the righteous man who is only there because that's where Dean wants him, in years now. He's a friend. He's family. Now that Hannah is dead, the Winchesters are truly the only thing he has left and he couldn't be more glad that he gets to stay with them.

Even if it still occasionally feels like he's intruding, like he doesn't belong if only because of the simple fact that he is not human, that he's always caught between two worlds.

But Sam is telling him to stay and so Castiel does, watching Sam collapse onto the bed next to him, brows pinched together in mild concern. Although his attention is somewhat divided—his eyes are on Sam, but his head is tilted slightly toward the TV, listening to the sound of Piper's voice—he still catches that twinge in Sam's expression when he rolls his shoulders. Of course that only increases the worry with which he regards Sam, even if he seems fine otherwise, exhaustion aside. He's about to speak up when Sam beats him to it. ]

I meant that you should sleep, you look exhausted.

[ He points out in a way that would almost be reproachful if it weren't overshadowed by concern, though Castiel doesn't argue further when he certainly doesn't mind getting to stay right where he is, comfortable on the bed with Sam right next to him. Besides, he gets distracted by what Sam says next and it causes him to guiltily look away, suddenly mighty interested in what's happening on the screen.

Which is answer enough, really, and also makes it so that he can't really lie without being completely obvious. ]

I haven't. I'm an angel, my vessel will be fine. [ It's not like he needs exercise or anything, he's perfectly fine. More or less. Sam is of more concern anyway, the twinge hasn't gone forgotten, so Castiel is quick to redirect the subject. ]

Are you all right?

( when you're small enough to look at a picture of sir galahad and deem yourself unworthy of a quest such as his because you feel you're unclean … it may not have been his decision to start out as the abomination that he had been, because of course he hadn't made the deal with old yellow eyes, can't be blamed for the decisions made by a woman desperate to keep hold of the man she loves –

but there have been too many instances in which he's made those choices himself, taken a single misstep and found himself wading down the wrong path, the one away from righteousness even when it's all he's ever wanted, to do things in good faith. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, as they say, and even though he's been there and back again, even when he mulls over every single little thing he's done since he'd picked hunting back up, when john had first disappeared, he finds it difficult to say that he wouldn't do it all over again, even if the guilt rolling off of him in nearly-tangible waves will always be a thing that looms over him. the monkey on his back, the skeleton in his closet.

but it's almost easy enough to tamp it all down, now, keep the memories of things that would or could have been where they belong; in the past, buried and half-forgotten, left in the dark to fester and decay. as much as he tries to bring himself to focus on the here-and-now, all the good that he has around him in his brother and castiel, sometimes it's all he can do to simply be, to exist in a singular moment, to breath in the truth that it doesn't matter what they've all done, collectively or on their own, he isn't alone.

it's something that steadily nestles itself within him, something tangible and whole that keeps him centered, helps to tether him to the present. it's something that he doesn't want to ever, ever lose. )

I'll sleep, don't worry. ( you little mother hen worrywart, you. ) In a little bit.

( and of course he hasn't gone out of the room since sam had left, and while he'd only been gone for a handful of days, it stands to reason that regardless of the fact that angels around bound by the conventions of human nature, it still helps to get up and, you know, walk around every once in a while. castiel's joints might not get stiff, and he might not find himself with a charlie horse for having stayed in the same position for hours on end, but it has to benefit the vessel to move, doesn't it?

there's skepticism in his expression as he chances another look upward – and subsequently catches how suddenly interested castiel is in the tv again – and it's enough to have him scooting up a bit higher on the mattress, at least to the point that he can stretch out the entirety of his legs without them dangling off the edge, and if the angel dares to look in his direction again, he's going to be getting one hell of an r u srs squint.

but he's still grinning. he's too relieved to be back home and comfortable to really start in on nagging. he'll save that for when he's more awake. ) Yeah, but you know, sunlight and vitamin D are good for you. Angel or not. ( a pause, and he hums lightly in the back of his throat, unconsciously settling himself a bit closer to the other. )

Yeah, I'm good. A little sore, but that's nothing new.

[ Castiel is not one to talk of righteousness. An angel he may be, but he's always been a terrible example of one. Goodness knows his own road has been paved with good intentions, cemented with the simple desire to help, only for him to end up making matters so much worse. He has no right to judge anyone, not after everything he's done. He's certainly not going to be the one to judge Sam, not when Sam's gentle support and steadfast belief in him over the years have meant the world to him. Sam who is so good at heart, who is always forgiving and kind to him even during times when he least deserves it. He has earned every bit of Castiel's respect and loyalty and that's not going to change regardless of the past or whatever future bad choices they might make.

Besides, Castiel has learned that sometimes good intentions are all that matter, that they can't be faulted for wanting to do the right thing, to keep trying. Sometimes it's the effort or the thought behind it that counts. All three of them have made terrible mistakes and bad decisions, all they can do now is move forward and keep trying. Hopefully one day they can actually get it right and make up for everything that's gone wrong.

Or, alternatively, one can just hole themselves up somewhere and watch TV all day. Keeping away from the world is one way to ensure no harm will befall anyone else because of him, surely.

Sam looks exhausted enough that he's likely to fall asleep at any moment, with or without Castiel's concerned nagging, so he doesn't push the matter any further. For now. Instead he's busy trying to appear as if he's really engrossed with what's going on with the prison shenanigans on screen until eventually he can't help but glance over when Sam shifts on the bed, just in time to catch the look he's being given. It's not very effective, however, thanks to the grin that Sam keeps sporting. Castiel can't even be bothered pretending to be defensive. ]

I have everything I need right here.

[ He counters easily. There's the TV and Sam keeps plenty of lore books within easy reach in his room, which is handy for Castiel should he be called upon to look something up. That's literally all he needs. Not requiring sustenance and exercise or having to deal with the bodily functions of a human body definitely has its perks. If he can stand by the side of a road for a whole night without budging, he can certainly stay put comfortably lying on a bed. It's not a subject he cares to linger on very much, not when Sam says he's sore and Castiel can help with that. Any chance to make himself useful here is one he'll gladly take.

He reaches over to brush his fingertips along Sam's forehead in something that could almost be interpreted as a casual gesture of affection, if Castiel were one for random affectionate gestures (he's not for the most part) and if the touch wasn't accompanied by the gentle push of his grace, a soothing balm to aching joints and sore muscles that works instantaneously. It's the least he can do, he figures, and he carries on casually afterward as he retracts his hand. ]

How was your trip?

( good intentions might end up meaning more in the larger scheme of things – when they all add up to more than the sum of their parts, create a whole to give rise to the big picture. the end result. but it's all the little things that add up in the interim, the things that seem inconsequential in the heat of the moment, when everything is dire and it's down to the wire. the things that make him feel like he's done more harm than good, that some things are better left alone, but when there's been time left for the dust to settle, to clear and he has time to think about everything that has led him to this moment?

good or bad, high or low, moral or immoral – there is nothing he would take back, because it's all built up to make the person he's become. someone that can be forgiven for his transgressions no matter how far he's misstepped, how far away from his original motive he finds himself when he finally gets his bearings again.

maybe, one of these days, they'll all get themselves back on track and make up for the wrongs they've all inflicted, not only on themselves but one another. it's something that sam remains hopeful for, ever the optimist even when dean insists the ery opposite, because who's going to hold it together otherwise? ( certainly not cas, who for the life of him, regardless of his years spent on earth and among humans still can't tell a proper lie. )

and of course the look he gives him isn't very effective; no look either of the winchesters give their angel hits its mark directly on-point, because attempting to go toe-to-toe with a being that has been around since before the creation of man never ends well, usually ends in a rather withering look being given from the angel in question, even if … well, by now, they're not as effective as they used to be.

sam's eyes have drifted briefly closed, and at the response he gets, he can only hum a small laugh that catches somewhere on the back of his tongue, the curve of his grin softening even further. ) You've got to be the lowest maintenance of anybody I've ever met. ( the tone of his voice is affectionate, soft and friendly, and it hits him for the first time since he'd come into the room that he'd missed this – the easy back-and-forth, the banter that he and castiel are now capable of. it pools a pleasurable sort of warmth in the middle of his chest, his fondness for the other allowing him to relax even further, and –

that's when the touch to his forehead comes, almost-not, except for the subtle push of something more that accompanies an instant break in the tension riddling his body, the soreness in his muscles that he's been so acutely aware of the moment it had set in. there may also be some unseen bruises finding themselves healed, more of the ache that has had him exhausted all but lifting away and finding itself replaced with something else. peace and calm, an easy sort of satisfaction that he can feel down to previously-tired bones, and one hazel eye slits open, a brow quirking upward. )

S'okay, as far as small-town hunts go. Kind of a vacation compared to some of the other things I've seen. ( there's a small pause, and he takes in a deep breath, all but sinking a bit more into the mattress beneath him. he's not as tired as he was, but he could very well fall asleep given even less than half a chance. not that he particularly wants to, now that he's in favorable company. )

You didn't have to do that, but … thanks.

Being an angel has its perks.

[ He replies with a small, crooked half-smile. And it's only now that Sam has returned that Castiel realizes that of course he never left the room in the time that Sam and Dean were gone, they're practically the only incentive he has to move around in the bunker. Without them the hallways are empty and silent, desolate, with only the ghosts of memories left behind. At least in Sam's room he has the 'company' of the TV to keep him occupied, voices and stories to fill up the silence and emptiness. Normally Castiel prefers places with solitude, but here underground in the bunker it's different. It feels lacking without its usual occupants and of course Castiel can't help but worry when the Winchesters are gone, whether it's on a small hunt or something bigger makes no difference to him. Castiel will always care and worry.

But Sam is back now, all soft smiles and quiet laughs, and Castiel feels lighter for it, relieved that he has returned whole and relatively unharmed. For all that he can heal anything with a simple touch, seeing his friends hurt never gets any easier no matter how often they end up bloody. (Which is very often.) It's so much better to have them come home like this, tired but not beaten down, physically or otherwise. Although even if Sam isn't seriously hurt, it's not going to stop Castiel from soothing away the minor aches anyway. He'd probably do it for a paper cut, even.

At least that way he can still be useful and he can take a little bit of suffering away. ]

I'm glad it went alright.

[ He'd ask for more details, just to keep talking, if Sam weren't so obviously ready to fall asleep and Castiel doesn't want to keep him from that. Instead he makes himself a bit more comfortable, shifting so that he's nearly lying down completely, wanting to linger in Sam's company for as long as he's allowed. There's no harm in staying a while longer, Sam wanted him to stay, he can turn off the TV and leave once Sam has fallen asleep. For now he can soak up his warm presence, feeling reassured by it and brighter for having him near.

And of course he didn't have to heal him, but ... ]

I wanted to.

( he laughs, low and soft but entirely genuine. ) I can see how it would.

( it … he shouldn't think in these terms, but it's the closest to an analogy as he can come without taking it too far – it's almost like the year and change he'd spent without a soul, without the need for sleep, any of the other handful of singular human needs that serve more as hangups than anything else.

it's not something he would ever want to go back to, but it's something he understands, at least on a very general, basic level. and, really, he can't blame castiel for not thinking to go outside his room, outside the bunker when the boys themselves aren't around; if he has everything he needs within arm's reach, has far fewer needs to attend to than those of humans, what need is there at all to leave the comfort he's made for himself?

still, it's a bit amusing to prod him about it, and if it means coming back from a couple of days out to find him nestled nice and comfortably in his bed, almost like he's been waiting for him to return since the moment he'd left … that's just one more thing that has him finally beginning to feel like the bunker is home, the thought of it catching up to him so much later. so far after the fact that he's sure dean still thinks he's strange for it, because this is the first place they've had that feels like a real home that they've ever been allowed to have.

it's his presence that adds to the feeling of home, he realizes that now, just one more thing to add to the feeling of family, as well, that they've been steadily building over the past few years.

sam is quiet for another small moment, turning a bit to stretch out on his side with an arm pillowed beneath his head. the longer he stays like this, the easier it is to feel like he could stay awake – and he attributes that in whole to the angel's presence, the warmth of him next to him, the easy sort of relaxation that is far more preferable to being cooped up and cramped in the impala for the few hours' drive it had taken to get them back here. ) You know, I miss you coming on hunts with us. ( his tone is low, contemplative but entirely serious, because even though it's been a while since he'd thought of it, castiel might not have been the best hunter for some of the jobs they'd found themselves on, but the company has always been nice. )

You should come with us again, sometime. If you could tear yourself away from the TV for that long. ( he's back to grinning again, the corner of his mouth drawn upward in something that could almost be considered a smirk, still lopsided and easy.

and he's happy to keep talking, about everything and anything that could possibly cross cas' mind, if only because it's an excuse to keep him there even when he'd assured him that it was more than all right if he stayed in the first place. he hums, pleased and content and everything that he hasn't really been in longer than he cares to admit, like the small things in the universe that add up to something larger have finally found a resting place and are at peace as a whole, deigning to sit still for longer than the span of a breath taken and let go. )

Well, you're spoiling me. I don't think I've had to so much as deal with a cold for … ( pause. think. flippant shrug. ) Hell, I don't know. ( then again, there were those trials that almost killed you, remember?

but those totally don't count. )

[ Castiel has no home, technically, but the bunker is perhaps the closest thing he has to it now that he has lost his last positive tie to Heaven and all of his kin hates him. Returning to Heaven would mean certain death for sure, he knows. Although Heaven was never entirely 'home' to begin with, considering there's no one true Heaven and even though there are heavens that angels might favor, it's not like that makes it theirs. Those heavens are memories of the deceased, generated by their souls, and angels don't have souls, no place that's entirely their own. They don't need to have such a thing, they're warriors built for purpose and they used to have all of time-space at their fingertips before the Fall. Home was never necessary, only devotion to an absent father.

So Castiel has never belonged and he thought he'd be fine with that, has always been fine with that because he still had family, lately he's not so sure anymore. He feels lost. At least the bunker offers safety and comfort and perhaps it's more accurate to say that Castiel's home tends to be with people anyway. First it was his garrison, now it's the Winchesters. They're all he has left and their presence is what makes the bunker the kind-of-home that it is. He's well-aware that Dean views it as home and Sam less so, it's obvious in how Dean's room is decorated and filled with little personal touches while Sam's room is only set apart from the other standard rooms by the TV and the books strewn around, no photos or personal items to be found on the walls or the desk. But with how relaxed Sam lies next to him, so at ease, it's impossible to think of the bunker as anything other than the Winchesters' home.

Castiel is comfortable in the small moment of silence, head propped up so he can still easily watch the TV screen, until Sam speaks again and catches him off guard. There's a flicker of surprise that passes along his face as he turns his head to look at Sam, almost wondering if he's joking. (Sam isn't, his tone alone says that enough.) Castiel knows he's not a very good hunter, he lacks the social graces necessary for all the pretending to be something else that's needed in the job and then some. If it weren't for the fact that he's an angel, that he can heal and smite and take a beating far better than any human can, he'd be entirely useless. Sam knows that. So the unexpected sentiment surprises him, fills him with warmth.

Frankly he does miss it too, misses being by their side when they venture off into dangerous situations where he can't watch over them or help them directly. At the same time, the thought of stepping outside the bunker fills him with unease and dread for reasons that are beyond his grasp. It's why he doesn't fight Dean very much whenever he insists Castiel stay behind and take the time to recover. He's still not a hundred percent, has been feeling off kilter and unbalanced ever since the attack dog spell, so it's not like he can argue a whole lot. ]

Perhaps sometime soon.

[ He replies in a neutral tone, hiding his uncertainty behind a small crooked smile, the statement a quiet hope and a small dread all at once. It's a good thing then that the TV offers a momentary distraction as he hears the episode come to an end and, remembering where the remote is, he retrieves it to prevent the next episode from automatically playing, making it jump back to the menu instead. His attention is quickly drawn back to Sam however, tilting his head at him in an almost curious fashion as Castiel speaks matter-of-factly, though with a strong conviction behind the words. ]

Hardly. You've suffered more than enough in your life, Sam.

[ The 'you deserve to feel good' is left unsaid to be heavily implied in his earnest expression. Castiel wishes he could take all of the suffering away, all the emotional scars and loss and the heavy guilt that Sam carries. He can't. He has to settle for healing cuts and bruises, soothing away physical aches, it's all he can do. It doesn't feel like enough. Sam deserves so much more, so much better, than the hand he's been dealt in life. Both Winchesters do, but their fates can't be changed and there's nothing Castiel can do other than help in what little ways he can and try to atone for the suffering he himself caused them. ]

( there's something to be said about having a home – more than just a base of operations, a headquarters in which to do their research and make plans for moving forward. while sam still doesn't have it in him to settle completely, if only for the fact that he's terrified it's all going to go to hell in a handbasket and they'll have to move on right when he finally convinces himself that it's all right to put down roots. the boys themselves have never really had a place like this, not with john moving them around as much as he had when they were younger, chasing down the monsters that sought to ruin the lives of the people they were meant to save.

home has never been a matter of a physical place, for him. it's one more thing they can agree on, that home means surrounding yourself with the people you care about the most, just like bobby singer's adamant, constant reiteration of family don't end with blood. it's all in what you make of it, and with the three of them – team free will, always – they're making the most of what they've been given, and whether or not any of them realize that's what's happening, it doesn't quite matter, does it? not when they all seem to fit together like pieces from the same puzzle, complementing and completing one another as perfectly as no other beings could, and sam can't deny that it feels good to have a family that he can rely on. blood or not.

that he hadn't been expecting the sentiment of missing hunting with him wouldn't have surprised him, truthfully. dean hadn't exactly beaten around the bush when he'd come right out and said that castiel wasn't meant to be a hunter, and it's true that he doesn't know how to read people like the winchesters themselves do. they know how to pick out the tiny little details that might seem inconsequential, piece them all together to bring the semblance of a whole, and even if the angel's willingness to help stays in the realm of the tangible, what he can see and hear and discern from being an angel and using the powers of such, he'd still tried to help them out, and that's what counts in sam's book.

it doesn't matter that he doesn't help as much as he would perhaps like to, because the company is all that really matters to sam, in keeping him close and under their care even if, more often than not, it's the other way around. castiel has been healing their hurts and their wounds for so many years now that it's difficult to imagine, to remember a time when all they had was a busted-up first aid kit with minimal supplies and a bottle of whiskey for antiseptic – and even if he doesn't ride along with them, when they come back battered and beaten, at least they'll be taken care of.

so castiel can stay, same and cozy in the nest he's built in sam's room, or he can come along whenever he'd like. sam knows he still isn't one hundred percent when it comes to his own powers, his own measure of healing, and truth be told he would rather the angel stay cooped up in his room until he's back at full power. but the invitation doesn't have an expiration date, and he's more than welcome to pick up on it when he feels he's up to getting out of the bunker. )

Whenever you're feeling up to it. I know you don't have all your mojo back just yet … it was just a thought, y'know?

( his gaze lingers, for the smallest moment on that lopsided smile, taken in completely by how open and genuine it is. and when those words next come out of his mouth, he almost wants to argue – almost, until he picks up on the implication of what's being left unsaid, the little nuances that only he seems able to pick up on, and the will to argue drops right out of him.

maybe he's been through a lot, and maybe he deserves a break every once in a while, but he could never bring himself to take for granted that castiel cares about him enough to heal even the simplest of aches and pains, the little things that are barely more than an annoyance and would disappear in a day or two. and it makes him smile, himself, just as lopsided and just as genuine.

he's blessed by the other's presence, and he hopes castiel knows that, has known that since the moment they'd met, even if it hadn't started out as nicely as this. )

It's nothing that some ibuprofen and a good night's sleep wouldn't have fixed. ( there's a small pause, and then, almost hesitantly, the tips of sam's fingers brush against the other's elbow, the smallest sign of affection and thanks. ) But still, really. Thank you.

[ The Winchesters are truly the only thing Castiel has left and he's considered them to be like brothers to him for years now. A sentiment that has been well-earned. In many ways they have proven themselves more family than any of his siblings have ever been. (And that's not his kin's fault, they were created to be tools that do not feel like humans do, weapons of God that exact his righteous fury and carry out their duties without question.) They have accepted him and taken him back even after all his astronomical mistakes and all the times he's hurt them personally.

It's Sam and Dean who have taught him the true meaning of family. But for all the years he's known them and despite their acceptance, there are still times when he feels like an outsider. It's a hard feeling to shake when he's perpetually torn between two worlds, when he still feels like the tool he's meant to be and when he knows that the Winchesters will always choose each other above all else. Which is fine, he understands, and even though he's made his choice years ago— humanity, although really that just means the Winchesters, something even his siblings know at this point—the pull of duty and obligation is always there, written into his very code.

It's an inner conflict that has been there the moment he started rebelling, the very reason he went back to Heaven as soon as the apocalypse was stopped, and he feels it now more than ever when he's cut off from Heaven and responsible for everything that went wrong with it, unable to fix it and hated by all his kind. What makes it easier to forget for a little while is losing himself in the stories on TV and also moments of warm company like these, with Sam smiling and whole by his side. Sam who is less rough around the edges, kind and gentle, and who understands the cost of screwing up more than anyone else given their similar experiences in terrible decision-making. ]

I know. Thank you, Sam.

[ Because even though he might feel conflicted about it himself, the sentiment is still very much appreciated. That Sam might actually want him around is a very nice thought indeed, one that keeps him feeling content in this moment and warms him as much as Sam's earnest smile does. ]

My way is better. [ He states with the smile still lingering on his lips and although the statement is fact, there's the hint of a tease in the cheekiness of the words. At least Sam doesn't argue, lets Castiel heal him without resistance, and it's something Castiel certainly appreciates after Dean's obstinate refusal to let him help in the only way he can.

He almost misses the touch to his elbow for how light it is, but he does catch it in time to reach out and let his fingertips touch Sam's in reciprocation of the gesture. He's still not very good at things like physical affection, but he's been learning and getting better, in part because of Sam. The gratitude is hardly needed, it's the least Castiel can do while he remains cooped up inside Sam's room, taking up his space, so his answer is a simple: ]

Of course. Welcome home.

( it comes, of course, from being unable to choose one's family; sam has been lucky, has more than considered himself lucky in that respect. sure, he and dean have had their moments in which they don't agree, are at extreme odds with one another or aid in the making of horrible life choices that may or may not inevitably end in the end of the world – but somehow, they always manage to pull one another back from the brink at the very last moment, to redeem themselves not only in each other's eyes but in the eyes of those they respect the most, and were it not for the distress and general chaos in heaven, things might just be back to what they used to be.

you know, before the apocalypse, before the war among the angels, before things had been said and done that can't be taken away by a few choice words or actions, things that must be remedied with time and patience and penance. ( and, truthfully, he thinks castiel has made far more effort than is really needed to make his amends where he thinks he needs to make them. there is only so much one can do in the face of the ones that blame him for things that have gone wrong – and, granted, it would seem that angels can harbor grudges far longer than anyone else – but there is only so much in the way of things he can say to give any sort of … reassurance that he's taking steps in the right direction, that it's only a matter of time before he's managed to redeem himself fully, and hell, if he doesn't?

he will always have a place with the winchesters. always, and then some. )

it's nice, though to feel like he has a place, even if the bunker itself still doesn't feel much like the home that dean has made it for the two of them. for as much as he's always wanted the normal life, that which he has been consistently denied since as far back as he can remember – it's castiel, and it's dean that makes this place feel more like a place he can finally belong, with his little box of tokens and memories built up over the years that he keeps only for himself, the things he wants to remember and the things he can't afford to forget. with everything they've lost along the way, the mistakes they've made and the paths they've taken in the name of thinking they're doing the right thing, maybe they don't quite deserve what they have in this place here, and even if sam will never take anything for granted, there's still a looming sense of something over his head that insists that it will all come crashing down when they least expect it, when everything seems fine and dandy and good, the false illusion of a steady but imperfect life.

but it's worth it, to have it all right here and now, living in the moment something that he's been trying to teach himself to do. just as dean has for years before him, never looking too far forward but always looking back, dragging the past into the present and not letting go. the winchesters, they live too much in the past they've supposedly left behind them, where it belongs.

and there's something real, something nice about being so comfortable with castiel like this. with their rough beginning, their own personal set of trials that they have overcome with the passing of each year, each small step taken down the road that has led them here – to say he's thankful for it, to put it mildly would be the least of an explanation given, words falling short when it comes to describing the warmth in his heart when that small but genuine smile is given to him. for something as mundane as the playing of netflix in the background while they make smalltalk, while they dance around the inexplicable affection that has grown between them – and with neither of them knowing much of what to do with such a thing, unaccustomed as they are to it – it's still far better than anything either of them have been allowed to have in some time, and even if it's awkward, they're taking strides to understand it.

and that's what matters, isn't it?

his touch is reciprocated, just as soft as his own, and even if the curve of his smile is genuine but small, there could be no more warmth to it – because it radiates, fills the space between them with everything he's feeling but can't put words to, the gratitude and affection, the simple and small things that pass between them that don't need words to fill the silence. ( and that's one more thing that sam has always been able to appreciate about their resident angel; he might not still understand the nuances of what it means to be human, but he never quite feels the urge to fill the silences with needless words, instead far more content to let things linger as they are, the knowledge of the simplest understanding enough to let it all just simply … be. )

and there's a thought, a small and almost-not thing that swims to the forefront of his mind – an action that could pass, another show of affection that he isn't quite sure would either be merited, justified or even wanted – and it has him lightly licking his lips even as his eyes fall closed for another small moment, a light huff of a laugh slipping free as an errant piece of hair falls across his forehead. )

It's nice … coming back to this. ( an unspoken to you is in there, if nothing else. ) I could definitely get used to it.

[ With the threat of the Darkness out there, their current peace is an illusion. Castiel is aware of that. There's no doubt that what he and Sam have done in order to save Dean will catch up with them sooner or later, another disastrous consequence of a selfish choice made. Given what they've unleashed upon the world, they probably don't even deserve the illusion. But he doesn't regret it, not when they succeeded in freeing Dean of the mark and it brought him and Sam closer together even though going behind Dean's back always feels terribly wrong. They knew full well there would be a high price to pay. That the price is potentially the entire world isn't that much of a surprise, all things considered. It's par for the course for them when their stakes have been getting higher and higher ever since they first met. The apocalypse is pretty much a cakewalk compared to the odds they're facing now, trying to fight something they know absolutely nothing about.

It's because they don't know anything that there's currently nothing they can do but try to carry on as usual and so Castiel is content to stay in their little illusion of peace and normalcy for as long as he's allowed. It's made all the more easier with Sam by his side, radiating such a heartfelt warmth that Castiel can actually feel for a moment like he belongs. That he's right where he's supposed to be, and more than that, that he's wanted. It's a fleeting sense, it always is, and it's one that he tries to hold onto desperately for as long as he can until it inevitably slips through his fingers and he's left feeling lost and questioning what he is all over again. It's a better distraction than Netflix could ever be, one that actually manages to make him feel lighter and less burdened in the face of a family lost, a great threat looming over their heads, and his dwindling sense of self.

Sam's company is special and Castiel appreciates it more than words could convey. Where Dean would be quick to get fidgety and impatient, he and Sam can sit together pouring over research in comfortable silence for hours, simply taking comfort in each other's presence. Even Castiel knows that's a rare thing to be treasured. Just being in one another's presence simply for sake of it is somewhat new to them though, but he finds he enjoys it greatly. It's hard not to with the smiles and little signs of affection he's so generously being given by Sam. He soaks it all in like a plant reaching for the sun, letting it warm him from the inside out.

The sudden light huff of laughter has him looking at Sam with curiosity, puzzled, and yet he can't help but keep smiling despite not knowing what might have warranted such a sound. At first he's too captivated looking at Sam to ask—there's the strange urge to reach over and brush the stray hairs out of Sam's face that he's not quite sure what to do with—and then he gets too distracted by what Sam says. Or rather, what he leaves unspoken that Castiel picks up on anyway. It fills him with a rush of warmth, gripping and squeezing his heart, and it makes him tear his gaze away, glancing down at his lap where he moves his hands to idly fiddle with the remote, almost bashful. ]

So could I.

[ The words are like a quiet confession, carrying an unspoken desperate wish. 'I want to stay.' He does, truly, but he's never sure if he'll get to. Circumstances always seem to find a way to tear him away from the Winchesters so he knows better than to think he'll get to stay. He can still hope, though.

Oh, how he hopes. ]

( there's the distinct feeling that they don't deserve the illusion of peace, for all that it's been offered to them anyway – or that they've simply taken it without asking, because with how long they've had to deal with dean and the mark of cain, sam will fight tooth and nail to convince the world, the universe that they deserve a break. just enough time to take a breath and hold it, hold it until their lungs hurt, let it go and take yet another in its place. to get their bearings. to take stock of their wins and losses, though he can't think they have too many of the former, far too many of the latter, and nothing in-between that could possibly hope to set some sort of balance.

they don't deserve this, no, but there's nothing saying that they can't take it anyway. because with nothing to go on as far as the darkness goes in the first place, finding themselves at a standstill and spinning their wheels no matter which way they turn is as good an excuse as any to take that much-needed breath. to rest aching and weary bones and minds, hearts that pump dust through brittle veins as that breath rattles against ribs on its way out.

and while sam has never been greedy, never thought himself to be – not in the sense that human beings generally are, anyway – he isn't going to turn this down, throw away the chance to simply exist in the space he's come to call his own with nothing waiting for him just outside the door, responsibilities and the things left unfinished left to wait until he's regained some manner of composure, some manner of himself.

time spent like this with castiel, it's always been enough when it all comes around to it. winding down with dean means a beer or seven and banter thrown back and forth as easily as it has been since they were children. it means greasy food and crappy tv shows and potentially drunken arguments about who had been the greatest superhero of their collective childhoods. ( dean will say batman, sam will say something ridiculous like captain america or spiderman, and it will all go downhill from there. ) on the opposite end of the spectrum, there can be stretches of silence in which he and cas either put their heads together for research or do their own things, respectively, but it's been a while since he'd realized that just having the angel near is a comforting thing. a blanket sort of peace sliding over him without him realizing until he notices that the tension, the stress has all but slipped out of him.

and this is what this is like, comparatively speaking, the ease with which he can stay in the other's presence, soaking up the small nuances of affection he gives in return more than enough to quell any disquiet that might still linger within him. castiel … has almost always had that effect on him, disregarding those angel powers of his that are capable of healing just about anything that could ever be wrong with him –

it's how comfortable he's come to be with him. and if he'd deigned to reach out and sweep away those stray pieces of hair like he'd briefly thought about doing, there wouldn't have been any sort of complaint from sam's end, even if it might have come as something as a surprise. because humans are the tactile ones, and even with as long as cas has spent with the winchesters …

well, it might have made him feel the slightest bit special. )

Yeah?

( it's not so much a question as it is a small sound that slips from the back of his throat that sounds vaguely curious, and though he doesn't catch castiel peering at him as he had been, he looks up now with a brow quirked, mouth pulling to the side in that trademark little grin that seems, consistently, more and more just for the one next to him. )

Kinda thought you might have already. ( just being with them in general –

or does he mean with sam, specifically?

ah, things to ponder … )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

5

i'm sorry for the late reply - i'm out of town - i hope this isn't too late for you.

not at all! sorry for the delay as well

no worries! i backtag forever. c: and i just found out you know a good friend of mine - small world!

small world indeed!

she's been singing your praise for a bit, now. i just thought it would amuse you to know. |D

ahaha she said, there's been quite a bit of mutual gushing tbh

i've been following y'all's thread a bit, your cas is so good i'm so happy to be playing with him!

oh gosh, thank you! trust me the feeling is mutual, i adore your amazing sam

thank you so much! it's just so nice to see cas players that actually ... want to thread with a sam.

of course! i love sam and cas & sam's friendship is so important to me, haters are missing out

i've just been playing him for so long that i got used to other angelbutts ignoring him, buh.

man that's crazy but it's their loss tbh, your sam is fantastic

//// asdflg really, thank you so much, that means the world coming from someone that writes so well.

akjsf no YOU ♥

oh my god i am so sorry this is over a week late i hope the quality makes up for it .. ;;