Sam’s powers take a new turn right around the time he meets Dean’s Angel Savior. He’s weirded out by being able to hear things that Dean can’t and that Castiel is looking at him funny for responding to, until Castiel figures out what’s going on. He begins investigating Sam since that’s something he was not prepared for, and the next time Sam and Castiel run into each other, Sam is overwhelmed by overhearing Castiel broadcasting his newfound respect, admiration, and love for Sam.
Sam and Cas talking to each other and being honest about their mental states is just the nicest thing. Thank you season 14 for showing us them being their supportive, compassionate, kind selves and watching out for each other.
loved this especially because sam and cas are the only ones in the metaphorical room who’s gone through so much together that only they really understand where each other’s state of mind is right now and know the right things to say to each other when they’ve lost one of the trio
14.01 coda || sam hasn’t slept in well over a day, and castiel tries to change that (this is probably largely @transsammywinchester‘s fault ¯_(ツ)_/¯)
word count: 1k
“Sam… you need sleep.”
A hand rests on his shoulder. “Wha–?” Sam stops staring at table and blinks slowly, focusing on Cas, who’s standing next to him and looking down at him with a concerned squint. He hasn’t really moved since Cas went to check on Jack. “Oh. Is my mom making you do this?”
Castiel tilts his head to the side a little and smiles. “Well, I did pass her in the hall and she did ask me to convince you, yes. But I would have tried anyway.”
“Oh.” Sam holds up the now room temperature bottle of beer against his eye to avoid looking at Cas directly. “How about we try to take care of you first?”
“Sam. Going by your mother’s concern and the absolute exhaustion radiating off of you, you haven’t slept in well over a day.”
“And going off of the blood that is not only dried on your shirt but also your face, you look like shit and need to be cleaned up.” Castiel stares at him defiantly. “Look, you let me do that and then I’ll… try to sleep?“
Cleo: My jacket, the one you like to ridicule. It’s my armor.
Emma: What are you talking about?
Cleo: Can I give you a piece of advice? You got to learn how to protect yourself. Look, whatever we find here, that ain’t gonna be the end all be all. Find your armor.
Castiel watches the scene with interest, watches Emma’s face as Cleo tells her her jacket is armor, and as he so often does, thinks of Sam.
It’s rare to see Sam in a single layer, the hunter always wearing several and before today, Castiel had thought nothing of it. But now he notices. He combs through his memory, trying to think of a time he’s seen Sam without his normal layers.
There isn’t one.
He remembers when humans wore armor going into battle, how it protected them from getting hurt. How sometimes it didn’t. Sam’s clothes are a bit like that, he thinks. They don’t stop the pain – pain always seems to follow Sam Winchester – but they keep him from being vulnerable. They’re a security measure.
He’s seen how reserved Sam is, how he keeps a careful distance between himself and everyone around him. Keeps a distance between himself and Castiel. Cas wants to close it.
The wall between them falls gradually, when Castiel isn’t attempting to cross it. The bricks crumble when he talks to Sam about his time with the garrison, when Sam gives him a book to read. Sometimes Sam will watch Netflix with him, and they sit close enough for Castiel to feel the warmth of Sam’s skin seep through their jeans. He takes his trench coat off when he’s around Sam, takes off his shoes and socks when they watch Star Wars.
At some point, Sam does the same and there’s something softer about him, barefooted and leaning against the headboard. It never ceases to amaze Cas how such a large man can seem so small.
After the shoes Sam gets rid of his over shirt. Sam gets clawed by some monster and takes off the over shirt so Dean can bandage his arm. He doesn’t put it back on. Later, when the blood is gone, Cas zeroes in on Sam, clad only a v-neck and jeans.
The next time Sam lets Cas get a little closer, he’s wearing a worn T-shirt and shorts. Cas doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at him and Sam smiles back. The sight of dimples make Cas feel something, but it’s a good something, so he doesn’t worry.
A few months later Sam pulls out his laptop, setting up an episode of Once Upon A Time and Cas remembers Cleo and her armor. He looks over at Sam, blinking in surprise when he realizes Sam is looking back at him. The other man leans forward slowly, until their faces millimeters away from each other.
“Can I?“ Sam asks, low and rough, and Cas gives a small nod, scared a bigger movement will make Sam back off.
Sam closes the distance.
No clothes come off that night, but that’s okay. Sam is holding his hand and there’s promises of more movies with kisses later. Cas can wait.
Cleo: My jacket, the one you like to ridicule. It’s my armor.
Emma: What are you talking about?
Cleo: Can I give you a piece of advice? You got to learn how to protect yourself. Look, whatever we find here, that ain’t gonna be the end all be all. Find your armor.
Castiel watches the scene with interest, watches Emma’s face as Cleo tells her her jacket is armor, and as he so often does, thinks of Sam.
It’s rare to see Sam in a single layer, the hunter always wearing several and before today, Castiel had thought nothing of it. But now he notices. He combs through his memory, trying to think of a time he’s seen Sam without his normal layers.
There isn’t one.
He remembers when humans wore armor going into battle, how it protected them from getting hurt. How sometimes it didn’t. Sam’s clothes are a bit like that, he thinks. They don’t stop the pain – pain always seems to follow Sam Winchester – but they keep him from being vulnerable. They’re a security measure.
He’s seen how reserved Sam is, how he keeps a careful distance between himself and everyone around him. Keeps a distance between himself and Castiel. Cas wants to close it.
The wall between them falls gradually, when Castiel isn’t attempting to cross it. The bricks crumble when he talks to Sam about his time with the garrison, when Sam gives him a book to read. Sometimes Sam will watch Netflix with him, and they sit close enough for Castiel to feel the warmth of Sam’s skin seep through their jeans. He takes his trench coat off when he’s around Sam, takes off his shoes and socks when they watch Star Wars.
At some point, Sam does the same and there’s something softer about him, barefooted and leaning against the headboard. It never ceases to amaze Cas how such a large man can seem so small.
After the shoes Sam gets rid of his over shirt. Sam gets clawed by some monster and takes off the over shirt so Dean can bandage his arm. He doesn’t put it back on. Later, when the blood is gone, Cas zeroes in on Sam, clad only a v-neck and jeans.
The next time Sam lets Cas get a little closer, he’s wearing a worn T-shirt and shorts. Cas doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at him and Sam smiles back. The sight of dimples make Cas feel something, but it’s a good something, so he doesn’t worry.
A few months later Sam pulls out his laptop, setting up an episode of Once Upon A Time and Cas remembers Cleo and her armor. He looks over at Sam, blinking in surprise when he realizes Sam is looking back at him. The other man leans forward slowly, until their faces millimeters away from each other.
“Can I?“ Sam asks, low and rough, and Cas gives a small nod, scared a bigger movement will make Sam back off.
Sam closes the distance.
No clothes come off that night, but that’s okay. Sam is holding his hand and there’s promises of more movies with kisses later. Cas can wait.
Cas, as a point of fact, does not actually spend every night in bed. He doesn’t sleep, after all, so it’s just hours and hours of unfilled time. He’s an angel, he’s millennia old, but he can, in fact, get bored.
Most nights, he spends reading. He tends the garden Sam helped him make. Some nights he goes for a drive, or watches television. One memorable night, he tried–and failed–to make brownies.
But some nights, he never leaves the bed. Even after Sam is long since asleep in his arms, he doesn’t slowly make his way out. It’s just something about the way Sam looks on those nights, although Cas can never pin down what exactly it is.
He looks soft when he sleeps, like the weight of the world is finally leaving him. His hair will curl around his head, fanning out on the pillow. He always sleeps with his lips slightly parted. Cas gets sucked into watching.
He wishes he was a painter. He wishes he could capture this is some great, meaningful way. He’s tried photographs, but they always come out too dark, too shadowed, too blurry.
So instead he gives up and just spends these particular nights watching, occasionally touching Sam’s hair or cheek or shoulder, but not daring to touch too much, lest he wake Sam. Some nights, he thinks Sam is the angel, sleeping and full of some sort of grace like the stories of old.
There’s no light in the Bunker, no windows, no sun and no moon. Cas wishes there was, sometimes, wishes to see the moonlight play out against Sam’s skin. Still, Sam wakes with the sun most days.
“Did you watch me all night?” He asks Cas, voice rough with sleep, a small smile playing on his face.
Cas leans down and kisses him. “Beautiful things should be watched,” he says.
Sam laughs, shaking his head, messing his already sleep-mussed hair more against the pillow. He doesn’t say anything, though, just allows Cas to kiss him again.
when castiel broke free of lucifer’s hold to stop him from killing sam in 11.14, it was monumental. here’s why:
sam is lucifer’s true vessel, so lucifer has to preserve sam’s body. but for castiel, lucifer isn’t afraid to rip that body apart. castiel took the risk of being killed to save sam.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 