fromfryingpantofire | For your love, I'm sorry/For your pain, don't worry

Entry tags:

castiel,
rp

For your love, I'm sorry/For your pain, don't worry

It had been happening little by little. Almost small enough increments not to be noticed, but Sam and Dean were both masters of noticing little details. It was the line between life and death far too many times.

(At least when they wanted to. Both were entirely too good at not seeing the forest for the trees when it was something they didn't want to know about.)

It had been slow, but steady. Sam and Dean had their hunts and Castiel had his job and his own life separate from their own. Especially once he got a boyfriend. It was only natural that they didn't get a chance to meet up as often.

But it wasn't just that. More and more often, Castiel begged off from meeting up or simply didn't answer voicemails left for him. And when they were able to get together, Castiel was quieter and obviously pulling away. It was worrying and Sam and Dean sat down and talked about it in the bunker, even pulling Kevin into it. They all agreed that, even if there wasn't a problem, they needed to at least check up on the former angel.

Which was why Sam was outside the gas station in one of the cars from the Men of Letters' garage, waiting on Castiel to finish his shift. This was something that was better talked about in person, anyway.

((Content warning for discussions of abuse and abusive relationships. Also BDSM done wrong.))

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Castiel nods, but is silent as he follows Sam out of the shower, slightly unsteady because of everything that has transpired, because he's tired and hurting and knows that his shame will only grow as they proceed.

"I'm sensitive."

It sounds like a random statement as he lets Sam envelop him in a towel. But it can mean a lot of things. An apology should his body react inappropriately to touch. An apology should he cry out because he hurts easily, too. An apology he cry.

Always an apology, because he feels that apologizing is all that can soften the inevitable fallout of all this for him.

The towel is incredibly soft. When they don't have to rely on laundromats and using the least amount of money possible, it turns out that Dean's really good at laundry. Sam is careful not to press against the injuries as he dries Castiel off.

He glances up at the statement, humming softly before nodding. "I suppose that's not a big surprise, really. This whole 'human' thing is still new to you. All the sensations will be, too." Which means, yes, learning how to deal with things like pain and pleasure. Especially when somebody has been working very hard to prove that there's no line in between, even where there should be one. "It's okay, Cas. Whatever happens, I won't be bothered by it. Whatever you need, all right?"

Castiel relaxes into the towel as Sam dries him off. There's something cozy about it, something oddly casual and chaste. Sam is taking care of him, clearly not focused on the wet, naked skin underneath the soft towel.

It's surprisingly nice to have affection without sex. Castiel didn't know that.

"Let me repay you, Sam."

Any other time and Sam might be more focused on wet, naked Castiel. If he's allowed. But right now, Castiel is a friend and hurting and that's all that Sam is going to let himself think about.

"You don't have to repay me, Cas," Sam says, wiping the towel over Castiel's hair again, almost amused at the way it won't quite set down, even when wet. "You're my friend. That's all the reason I need to help you."

Castiel's hair has its own mind like that. It's made for running fingers through it, too, though Castiel doesn't know that. Affection isn't something he's learned much of yet.

"But I can be good."

All he's learned is how to trade himself in for little kindnesses. Because Jason did him a kindness now and then - and expected payment, too.

It really is, and Sam would love to. But he's very mindful of the fact that Castiel is more than a little turned around at the moment.

Sam drops the towel around Castiel's shoulders, reaching up with one hand to cup the other man's cheek. "I know that you can," he says softly. "But you don't owe me anything, Castiel. There's no need to repay what I give to you freely. Nor do I expect payment. That's not what I'm about."

They have talked aboutit before, and Castiel feels as though he's failing Sam by returning to this point over and over again. But he has to make sure. Has to offer. There's nothing to gain in life if you're not willing to pay for it.

So what he does is reach forwards and very lightly trails his fingers over Sam's soft cock, not breaking eye contact.

Offering. Inviting.

He can be good.

Edited 2014-07-28 20:24 (UTC)

The reaction to that touch is very much not something in Sam's control. His cock jerks up into the touch, a little blood starting to fill it. And it would be so simple, just to let Castiel keep touching him, let him get Sam off the way that he wants to.

Sam takes a deep breath, willing down any more reaction before he takes Castiel's hand and brings it up to hold onto. "Cas, no," he says softly, keeping eye contact. "You don't have to get me off for me to know that you're good. I know YOU and I know that's true. You don't owe me anything."

"You've been alone too much and too long. You deserve at least... something."

Even something like Castiel. He feels light headed, barely able to connect his thoughts to his actions to his own wants and needs. He just doesn't want Sam to walk away, doesn't want to be useless again, nothing more than a victim, damaged goods.

Just like Jason said.

"I didn't know I had any need before my Grace was taken. And now I just want so much. Don't you want me to want you?"

Sam's hand tightens on Castiel's, not letting go. Because, yes. There's a part of Sam that has wanted Castiel to want him for years now. Maybe since the first time they had met and Castiel had pronounced him "The Boy with the Demon Blood".

Sam broke eye contact, lifting his head to press a kiss to Castiel's forehead. "You are my friend, Cas. I care about you and I want you to be safe, first and foremost."

Couldn't look Castiel in the eyes because he might see just how damaged Sam was, how broken bits of him still were. "We'll deal with your needs, help you find a safe way to deal with them. After that...we'll see."

He'd be safe with Sam, he would be. Castiel almost wants to beg, because the thought, the mere suspicion and fear that he has to face the future without a dom for now, alone and without the kind of guidance and control that he needs so much, is terrifying.

He took everyone Jason tossed at him just to not lose that.

But Castiel will be safe with Sam no matter what, even if Sam can't take away the terror of every day life just yet. He can let Castiel find the ground beneath his feet again, at least.

"I don't want to be alone," Castiel admits. It's not why he's offered himself to Sam. But it's a different level of everything that makes him feel wrong right now.

"You don't have to offer me sex not to be alone," Sam says softly, pulling Castiel closer into another hug. He really does need to look over Castiel, but for the moment, this feels more important. "I'm going to work with you so that you can understand what you want out of this, Cas. What you like and don't like and the best ways for you to get it safely. It's going to take time, but we'll get you there, I promise."

"And until then?"

He feels rotten for asking, but it's a concern. Will he be forced to remain alone untl then, lost in he sea that is free will and humanity, out of balance every waking moment?

What if Jason calls.

What if he calls Jason.

Castiel wraps his arms around Sam and holds on, anchors himself in what little way he can.

Whatever resistance Sam might have had crumbles in the face of the way Castiel wraps around him. He reminds himself that Castiel's been through something very difficult, that he's clinging to the one person who seems to know what's going on.

It doesn't stop him for a moment from wishing it were more than that.

He lays his hand against Castiel's back. "I promised that I would be the one in control. For now. I have a better idea of what you need than you do, though for the moment, I'm pretty sure what you need is to be treated and to sleep." Which comes to another problem. "Do you...I don't know if you want to sleep on your own or not."

"I don't sleep on my own."

And then Castiel stiffens, as if expecting reprimand. Clings just a little harder, maybe - and what little strength he has must seem pitiful to Sam.

Tentatively, he looks up. There's doubt in his eyes, the steel behind blue eyes beaten down into something unnaturally delicate.

"I don't want to sleep alone."

But even small, delicate things can remember they have a sharp, willful edge or two. Even when Castiel looks like he expects a beating, both for speaking as if he's adhering to Jason's rules, and for declaring what he wants - forbidden according to Jason's rules.

It's going to take a lot of time to deal with that particular reaction Castiel has to voicing his wants and opinions.

Sam nods slowly. "All right. You're still going to have your own room in the bunker because you deserve your own space to retreat to. A place where none of us will go unless invited." Which was going to be important for helping him get his head back on straight. "It's not somewhere you have to go, just somewhere that's available for you.

"For tonight, at least, you'll stay in my room." Which was actually a bit of a help because it would allow Sam to monitor his wounds better. "But. There's still no sex, all right? You still don't owe me anything."

It's unnerving, to say the least, and Castiel isn't sure whether he's relieved or unsettled as a result. But he nods, accepts Sam's way of doing things for now.

His own room... with the ability to lock the door.

It's a nice idea, but it also makes his head spin because it sounds and feels so wrong, initially. What would Jason say. And will Sam be as okay with it as he claims right now?

Castiel wants to be used, if only because that's all he knows, and not having it happen sends him reeling, makes him want to be able to cling in other ways. Instead, he carefully pulls away to stand on his own. Nods and turns around, not trusting his idle hands for now, and not thinking about what kind of image his back will present to Sam.

Honestly, Sam figures that he's not going to be sleeping on his own for a good, long while right now. He might even be okay with never sleeping alone again, but it's going to depend a lot on what Castiel needs.

He lets Castiel go, letting him turn around. "Reach out and put your hands against the wall, Cas," he says, giving Castiel something to do with his hands. Only once he's done that does Sam take a look at the other man's back.

It still takes a moment to understand what he's seeing. He'd seen blood on Castiel's back, of course, but he'd thought it was new. Now that he can see it fully, Sam finds himself having to take a breath to control his anger. Because now he can see the scars that Jason had painted on Castiel's skin, the mockery of wings that had to take months to put in place. He shakes himself, turning to get the first aid kit that Dean had pushed into the bathroom before bringing it back. "I don't think any of these are going to need stitches." Some of the older ones probably should have, but it was far too late for that. "I'm going to put some antiseptic on the fresh cuts and then cover them with gauze. Just to keep them clean."

He has to put aside his anger for the time being. He doesn't want Castiel to think that he's angry at him, after all, and he's not certain his friend would be able to distinguish his anger at the moment.

Castiel is silent for a long while, just standing there with his hands against the wall, and letting Sam work on his back for a while. He knows the ugliness that his friend is currently facing and working on, knows what image they represent.

"I told him I'm an angel. He said falling from having must have been painful for me to like pain so much now. Jason wanted to give me back my wings."

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes almost pleading. "He meant well."

Jason had probably thought that Castiel was crazy, honestly. And he hadn't cared.

Sam finishes treating the cuts that need it, putting some gauze over the freshest, at least for the night. He steps forward, rubbing his hands over Castiel's shoulders. "He may have meant well. But his artistic interpretation leaves a lot to be desired." The 'wings' were crude and made a mockery of what Castiel had been. Still was, as far as Sam is concerned. "I'm going to leave the room so you can use the bathroom. I'm sure you don't want an audience for that." And Sam's sure he doesn't want to see it, either. Really not his kink. "I'll have to treat the tears in your ass when we have a chance, but it's mostly just going to be keeping the area as clean as we can."

Jason had considered Castiel crazy. Castiel doesn't know this, and is therefore blissfully unaware that this was precisely why Jason had wanted to keep him around - thinking Castiel someone with just a few screws loose, clingy and dependent but not dangerous, and not illegal. How else would he be so sheltered, so clueless about so many things, so sweetly submissive when pressured just right. How desperate to please and not be sent away.

The cruelest punishments had been when Jason had started packing a bag for Castiel, silently threatening to get rid of him.

Castiel had begged on those days, too painfully reminded of being tossed out of Heaven, tossed out of the bunker, too.

Now, he just nods, too ashamed to apologize once more for putting this all on Sam, making Sam have to deal with him. They may be friends and he's still more than willing to die for the Winchesters, but he never intended to involve them in the failure of his sex life and relationship like this.

He wonders if Dean will consider him a baby again, an infant unable to take care of itself. Wonders if Sam might not secretly think the same, now that his thoughts are safe from Castiel's prying gaze.

"Are you going to be far?"

And he loathes himself for having to ask this question for his own comfort. Even worse...

"Are you going to lock me in?"

Sam picks up one of the towels, wrapping it around his waist. The questions make him turn back, though, shaking his head. "No, I'm not going far. Only just outside the door. And the door won't be locked, just closed. Just call out when you want me to come back in."

He takes a moment, then reaches up to place his hand against the back of Castiel's neck. "It'll be all right. Not tonight and maybe not for a while, but you'll get there. You have me and Dean and Kevin. We're here for you, all right?"

He almost forgot about Kevin, and suddenly he feels all the more ashamed. To have Dean and Sam see him like this is bad enough. He's not sure he can take the judgement of a prophet on top of that. But what other choice does he have?

Well.

He can always call Jason.

The thought is almost as comforting as it is terrifying.

"I'll make it up to you. I swear, Sam, I will."

"Cas." Sam reaches out, taking one of Castiel's hands to give it a squeeze. "There's nothing to make up to me. To any of us. You're family." Which, for Sam, is all that's necessary. All that's important. "I'm just going to be outside. Take as much time as you need in here, all right? I'm not going anywhere until you're ready to come with me."

Castiel merely nods. He doesn't move again until Sam has left, the door clicking shut behind him. Though it remains unlocked, the sound is terrifying.

He's been locked in the bathroom before. In the basement, too. In the cupcoard, once or twice. When he failed to learn properly. Jason was always fair in that he made sure to punish all transgressions, and Castiel always supposed he just hadn't gotten good enough to earn rewards yet.

He's not so sure about that anymore. He's not so sure about anything anymore.

So Castiel takes his time, trying to quell the rising panic. Sometimes he treads towards the door, presses his ear to it. Waits until he hears Sam shifting outside, or clearing his throat, or talking in low voices with Dean or Kevin.

It would be comforting if he didn't remember being locked up in the bathroom, too cold water uncomfortably filling him and causing cramps, Jason banging on the door to get his attention and make sure his boy would be as clean as he wanted him to be.

Castiel asked never to do that again, earning him three days tied to the cot in the basement, spreader bar holding him open for use, but unable to do anything but lie there and wait for something to happen.

Jason petted his hair afterwards, and said Cas was so close to doing well, so close to making Jason proud.

Castiel leaves the bathroom half an hour after Sam left him to his own devices. "I#m ready now," he says. And wonders if that almost makes Sam proud, too.

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