A little ficlet of chainsmoker Cas before he met Dean from my series smoking angel
First thing in the morning, a fresh cigarette is in his mouth. Castiel lights it as he waits for the coffee to brew. When it’s finished, he stubs it out and lights a second. He takes a drag between each sip, watching the sun rise outside. The window is closed, and Castiel half-heartedly notes to himself to open it later. The apartment is soaked with cigarette smoke, its smell permanently clinging to Castiel’s hair, clothes, skin. He doesn’t think opening the windows will help make it dispense at all, but Castiel still does it, whenever he remembers.
He makes himself a sandwich and smokes his third. By the time he’s done, three stubs are in the ashtray.
Castiel thinks he may go for a fourth, but he can’t be late for work. Halfway to the office, he decides to smoke one after all. As he parks his car, he takes a minute to take the last few drags of the cigarette before discarding it into the car’s ashtray. There are many stubs in it already. He really should empty it soon. He keeps forgetting to.
The building is busy as usual. Castiel goes past other workers, nodding to the ones who make eye contact with him, and rides the elevator to his office. It's quiet in there. He gets to work.
An hours or so in, Castiel feels an itch, and goes for his first smoke break. Gabriel lets him take as many as he likes, as long as he gets the work done. Castiel grabs a second cup of coffee from the machine in the break room. There are no people there. He is the only one taking a break so early.
The roof is mostly empty, the morning air is chilly and fresh. Eyes closed, Castiel takes a few breaths before fishing out his pack from his trenchcoat pocket. He takes out a cigarette with his teeth, his other hand busy holding the paper cup with his coffee, and pockets the carton. Castiel clicks his lighter and watches the end of his cigarette burn. He inhales. The smoke is bitter, the tobacco taste familiar on his tongue. He doesn’t mind it, but he can’t say he has any strong feelings about the act of inhaling it. It’s just something he does. Something that gives him a minute of calm.
Castiel exhales into the air. One thing he definitely finds quite beautiful is the sight of smoke curling into the air. His favourite is when he has a chance to see it illuminated by the night lights. Although recently, he only really sees it in the light the TV in the darkness of his room.
Castiel takes small sips of his coffee and smokes. The liquid is bitter, not much better than the stuff he buys at the store. He could try other brands, find out which he likes better, but that feels like too much work for something he doesn’t care much for. In a way, his coffee is the same as his cigarettes. Just something he does.
Castiel discards the empty cup and finished cigarette into the nearby trashcan, and before he thinks better of it, lights another one. He shouldn’t be doing that. Gabriel warned him off abusing his privileges to spend his time chainsmoking to have an excuse to slack off. Castiel knows Gabriel is just concerned. For all his warnings, in the end, he never punished him for doing it, after all.
Still, he was right.
Castiel exhales the last remnants of smoke in his lungs and puts out the cigarette. Before his instinct tells him to smoke another, he reluctantly wills his body to march inside and get back to work.
The jobs Gabriel gives him are pretty boring. It’s mosty stuff his brother doesn’t have the patience for, but what is, from his words, work that can only be assigned to the most trusted employees. Castiel thinks that’s a lie, but lets Gabriel get away with it. He needs a job, after all. Mostly, he wishes he could smoke inside, just as he does at home, but that’s one line Gabriel draws. Pity.
The rest of the day goes in the same fashion. Work, a smoke or two, more work. Further into the day, Castiel sees people gather outside, holding their own cigarettes and chatting animatedly. He ducks into his private corner and smokes in silence, letting his mind wander as he watches the clouds drift. He’s tried socializing before. It didn’t go so well. Besides, he likes the quiet.
As the day approaches its end, Castiel packs his things and prepares to head home. The sun is barely setting, but he is done with his work for the day. No sense lingering until closing hours. Gabriel won’t mind. He never does.
As Castiel walks through the halls, he tunes out the beeping, clicking, clatter and chatter. That’s another thing he’s grateful to have — his own quiet spot without the endless noise all around.
He gets into his car and lights up a cigarette, window rolled halfway down. He smokes it on his way to the store. There, he picks up whatever groceries he has the skills to turn into something edible, his shitty coffee, and two new pack of cigarettes. Those should last him for tomorrow, and the day after if he doesn’t get carried away. He’s been better at it lately.
At home, Castiel strips from his clothes and grabs his cigarettes and lighter. The pack he’s been smoking today is almost done, only a few cigarettes left. He thinks he can manage with just those without opening the new ones.
He lights one up and gets the grocery bag. Places it on the kitchen counter. Contemplates unpacking it before deciding to do it later. He had just gotten home. He deserves a break.
Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Castiel pours the fresh coffee into the pot and puts it on the stove. Then gets leftover pizza from the fridge and stuffs it into the microwave. He’s really bad at cooking, so he usually gets takeout. By the time the microwave beeps, his cigarette is done. He stubs it into the ashtray on the kitchen table. Pours himself the coffee and gets the food.
He eats the pizza and watches the orange glow of the sky. His windows face the East, so he only gets to see the sun shine into his rooms in the morning. It’s okay, he likes mornings, though he does have a harder time waking up early. Sometimes, he gets onto his balcony to admire the sun closer, breathe in the fresh air. Of course, that gets replaced by the scent of smoke soon enough. In those moments, the tobacco taste feels almost nice.
Castiel finishes all of the leftovers quickly. He forgot to pack his lunch today again. He hasn’t realized how hungry he was. It’s such a chore sometimes.
Castiel places the empty plate and cup into the sink. The dishes from the morning are still inside. He contemplates it for a moment. Then, he grabs his pack and lights another cigarette. He might just empty this pack by the end of the day if he keeps smoking, but he feels like he needs it now. Castiel puffs on the cigarette in his mouth as he scrubs the dishes. Ash from the tip of his cigarette falls into the sink, and Castiel wipes it off with the rest of the stains. The feel of the soap on his skin, the quickly dirtying scrub in his hand are uncomfortable, but it’s better than letting the dishes pile up and start to smell. He found that out the hard way.
By the time the dishes are all clean his cigarette is almost out. Carefully, Castiel grabs it with two fingers, wet and soapy, to discard it. He hates when his hands are not clean for that.
After that, Castiel suddenly feels himself exhausted. He goes into his room and decides to nap for the evening. The bed is undone, and he gets inside, pulling his soft blanket over himself. He sleeps longer than he’d hoped.
He wakes up to darkness in the room. His phone tells him it’s almost nine in the evening. Castiel drags himself out of bed along with his blanket and sits on the living-room couch. He’s still in his dress shirt and slacks. It feels like too much work to get them off. He turns on the TV and clicks the channels until he finds a trashy reality show to entertain him for the evening.
Only thirty or so minutes in, Castiel starts to crave for a cigarette. There should still be a few in the pack. Reluctantly, he rises from the couch and trudges into the kitchen, where his pack and lighter lie.
He finds only one stick inside. He stares at it for a long while. Closes his eyes, and feels the world almost rock in place. Or maybe it’s him who’s rocking. Castiel exhales from his nose and puts the last cigarette into his mouth. He comes to the kitchen counter and discards the packaging into the bin. Then, he shuffles inside the grocery bag until his fingers find one of the brand-new packs. Castiel stares at it for a second, cigarette unlit between his lips, and tears off the outer plastic. He brings the pack and lighter with him to the living room.
He watches TV and smokes. By the time the clock hits twelve, almost half of the new pack is gone. The ashtray on the coffee table is full of spent filters.
As Castiel feels himself start nodding off, he clicks the TV off. The room is plunged into darkness aside only for the moonlight. Castiel notes the window of the living room is open. At least he remembered to get it open there.
He realizes he forgot to empty his car ashtray yet again. He decides it’s too late to worry about now.
Before going to bed, Castiel showers and smokes his last. The ashtray in his room holds only one stub.
Flaky Zayn is up to his old tricks. He just cancelled tonight's show in Newcastle at 9.45pm, while the audience were waiting for him to appear on stage.
