#samcas drabble

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i think cas would let sam try out little experiments on him. i mean, sam is so interested in angels as it is, and suddenly there’s one right in front of him? willing to sit through his rambling questions and timid ‘can i touch your wings?’ ‘can you feel it if i touch there?’.

i just know sammy would be tracing his fingers over castiel’s wings, pressing soft kisses to the feathers when he helps straighten them out

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something something cas pouring communion wine into sam’s mouth whilst sam kneels in front of him in an old church

sam drinks it down hungrily, without breaking eye contact for even a second, then timidly asking if castiel is going to get in trouble for what they’re doing

cas replying “the lord cannot see us here” (they fuck about it later)

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sastiel, right, and hear me out now guys.

sastiel but it’s sam kneeling in front of cas, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes and begging him to just let him taste — just a little. he needs to know if the blood from an angel can help him fight his demon blood addiction.

and cas cares for sam, of course, but he doesn’t know if this is right. he’s one of God’s strongest soldiers, he shouldn’t be capable of feeling any emotion, especially not towards the boy with the demon blood.

but somehow, he finds himself feeling conflicted. when he looks down at sammy, all teary eyed and trembling beneath him, he feels a sense of protectiveness over the boy; as if sam is his to care for, his to keep safe.

so he lets him taste his blood, and he tells himself it’ll just be this once, just to help sam — after all, it is his role to follow the Lord’s plan, and nowhere in that plan does it say that he cannot perform acts of kindness to humans.

only, he didn’t think it would happen more than one time. but when he feels sam’s lips wrapping around his fingers, and his soft tongue lapping up the droplets of his blood, he can’t help but feel a sort of devotion towards him.

sam’s every touch is reverent; he’s worshipping castiel, and that’s when cas realises this is going to happen again and again. because he wants it to, because sam needs it to.

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Thinking about Sam desperately praying to Cas, maybe he’s hurt or scared or alone, but Cas can’t hear him. Well, he can, but not clearly. He’s hearing scratchy, distorted broken pleas for help, and it sorta sounds like Sam but it can’t be. Right? Because Sam left the hunting life, he finally got out.

Why would he possibly be praying to Castiel again? Cas must be imagining things.

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sam and cas sneaking around, sharing soft kisses when dean isn’t there to see, giggling at each other quietly and staying up late to watch old movies together because their love is so innocent despite everything they’ve been through

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sweet pretty sammy choking on cas, taking as much as he can down his throat and then more because he sees it as a form of worship

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mildly improper use of angel grace, for self indulgent sastiel related purposes.

they had a bad day, a really fucking bad day. dean ditched them as soon as they made it to the motel room, and ran off to the nearest bar he could find, which left sam and cas alone together. they hadn't known each other for too long, but tensions were high and cas didn't really understand the feeling, all he knew was that he didn't like it. so he asked sam if he would like to know what angel grace feels like, and of course the boy said yes -- he'd do anything to make himself holy, anything to make him clean.

cas tells sam to sit in front of him on the bed, and the hunter obliged, shuffling over and crossing his legs comfortably. he waits for something to happen, and cas slowly reaches out one hand, pressing two fingers to sam's temple gently. it was sort of warm, sam thought as he let himself sink into the feeling, he was growing much more comfortable and feeling almost giddy? he wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that it felt good. castiel did the same to himself, holding two fingers to his own head (for theatrical purposes more than anything else), then allowing himself to relax into his own grace.

after a while, sam looked up at the angel with this boyish grin and asked if they could do it again, if he could have more this time. castiel had softened by this point, he was no longer the stoic soldier of the lord. no, now he was just cas -- sam's cas. he said yes.

by the time dean stumbled through the door, the two men were cuddled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling and giggling at every word that came from the other's mouth. the older winchester accused them of being stoned, he had no clue that his brother was high on heaven itself.

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Angels, as the Lord's purest creation, are filthy in their devotion. They drape themselves in robes of heaven, and believe it is enough to protect them from sin —it isn't. The best place for an angel is on its knees, with its hands clasped around a rosary, whispering hushed prayers until the words come naturally; until they lose all meaning. The best place for Castiel Novak is on his knees, with his wrists bound behind his back, and Sam Winchester standing before him. He doesn't know it yet, of course, but he will learn in time that this is what's right for him. This is what he needs. Falling from Heaven is one thing, but to fall for a man? That may very well be the most sinful act the poor angel has ever committed.