Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-16 21:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, castiel, samandriel |
Who: Samandriel & Castiel
What: Angelic brothers meet for coffee
When: 16 August
Where: A coffee shop
Rating: rated A for adorable, nothing more than that - Low
Status: Complete
The bus was running slightly behind schedule, which made Samandriel feel awfully because he hated people waiting on his account. No matter that, but as he got off the bus, he realized he had no idea what his supposed dream brother might look like. Would he look at all like Samandriel himself? Older, clearly, since the other man said he was married and Samandriel was certain that it was a legal marriage and not some kind of handfasting.
It turned out that he needed no photo of Castiel at all to know which person in the coffee shop was his brother. Castiel was, to put it mildly, beautiful. He was all dark hair and scruff, but Samandriel sensed something different about the way he carried himself as compared to everyone else. And those eyes. Samandriel could lose himself in those eyes for hours and not even realize that time had passed.
It was all very strange for a young man who only recently realized that he might have sexual desires at all. One other person was an interesting thing all on its own, perhaps an anomaly. Two? Well that was certainly unexpected.
Samandriel walked over to the other man and smiled in the infinitely kind and patient way he always seemed to have at the ready. Those eyes were even more beautiful up close, like the sky over the ocean just after the sunrise had shifted away from oranges and purples and settled into blue. “Are you Castiel?” he asked, no matter how unnecessary the question.
Castiel turned those eyes onto Samandriel, and he smiled. Castiel's smiles were always a bit small, little more than a quick upturn of the lips. But they were kind, and genuine and the skin around his eyes wrinkled just so, like his eyes were the real smile.
"Samandriel," he greeted, in a roundabout sort of answer. His tone was nearly reverent - the kind he usually reserved for only one other man. But he'd yet to meet any other angels here, anyone who might be called family that he had not made himself. And Samandriel, although not in a form he knew, was definitely just that. There really was no mistaking it.
The other angel was young, but Castiel knew that eventually age wouldn't be all that important. They were both older than most others could even comprehend. "It's very nice to see you," he said, and meant it.
Samandriel didn’t remember Castiel yet, but that didn’t stop him from feeling all full up of all kinds of Feelings. He didn’t know quite what to do, but he did know that he really liked the way Castiel said his name and the way the angel-man looked at him like he really was glad. If ever Samandriel thought he might find a kindred soul, this would be it.
“And it’s good to meet you,” he said, not breaking eye contact for all the wonder of the moment. Maybe if he looked long enough, he could commit all of this to memory. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Samandriel wouldn't have a hard time memorizing it all, based just on the fact that Castiel didn't actually know better than to not just keep staring straight back at the younger man. Eye contact was something he tended to make, and then never let go of until someone else looked away. Probably, it was a bit of a concern to the other people walking around them in the coffee shop.
"It's alright," he said of the apology -- even though he was a very punctual man, and had been here early, he didn't much mind waiting. "I realize it is a high traffic hour. Would you like to get some coffee or maybe tea, now?"
“Please, yes, sir,” Samandriel said. Castiel. God, Castiel was beautiful and Samandriel was in possession of a slowly growing list of older men that would fuel fantasies it never before occurred to him to have. “Should we take it to the park you suggested?” Samandriel could feel people staring at them, and he’d much rather have this conversation in as much privacy as possible.
Castiel was sure he'd never been called sir before, and it made him furrow his eyebrows and squint at Samandriel as if he'd no idea where the younger man could have gotten a word like that. He supposed, though, when he was that age and in school he'd used the term around adults a lot, too. Well, when the adults weren't nuns, anyway.
"I would like that," he agreed. He thought maybe Samandriel might appreciate his favorite spot -- that bench on a high hill that overlooked the ocean. He shared it with few, although could be found there five times a week, so it wasn't the largest of secrets.
He turned then, toward the counter and asked the barista behind it very tersely for a large mocha coffee made with soy milk and no whipped cream, please. He turned his gaze back to Samandriel, silently asking him to get whatever he liked.
Samandriel ordered very politely and engagingly an iced caramel latte with extra whipped cream please, though it was clear that even though he was aware of the barista, he was more aware of where Castiel was and what he was doing.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up at the older man so very brightly when he’d paid.
"It's no problem," Cas said, genuinely. He wasn't used to so many thanks -- he did, after all, live with Dean Winchester, who while not an ungrateful being, wasn't usually in the habit of saying things like that. Nor did Castiel expect him to, of course.
They took their respective coffees once they were finished, and Castiel lead the both of them out of the shop and onto the sidewalk. His posture was as straight as ever, but he looked as relaxed as he might ever get around someone who wasn't his husband. "You haven't dreamt at all, then?"
Samandriel shook his head while he walked, shifting a bit to try to catch some whipped cream that was dripping through the seam of the lid of his cup from ending up on his finger. “Not yet, no,” he said, walking in stride with Castiel.
"I don't know what prompts them to start," Castiel admitted, squinting across the street once they were waiting at a crosswalk. "But I have seen enough not to think that you will have them eventually."
“I’m sure I will,” Samandriel said softly. “It’s only a matter of time.” But he was young yet. Maybe it was waiting for some sort of hormonal jumpstart that he was only just going through. He liked being near Castiel, though, and so stayed close to him even as they were crossing the street into the park. Somewhere in the back of his overactive imagination, Samandriel could pretend he was being sheltered under Castiel’s wings and that they were just as beautiful as the rest of him.
Castiel, who had never been very strong in the area of imagination, would probably only note that he didn't have wings. Not yet. Although there was a very distinct possibility that he soon would, considering the fact that last week, he had not known Japanese or Russian, and had not remembered when the mountains were being formed and the oceans being made. He did now. And a month ago, he had not remembered raising the most righteous of men from perdition. But he did now.
Everything seemed to be just a matter of time.
"Yes," he agreed, with the younger man as they wandered through the grass instead of staying on the path in the park. He was not the best of conversationalists. "I hope they are good for you. They aren't for some."
When they got to what seemed to be The Spot, Samandriel looked at the bench and then walked forward to go sit on the edge of the cliff like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He could sip his coffee there and watch the water properly.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve heard. I only hope that maybe dreaming being an angel might make it easier for me to help people here.”
Standing behind Samandriel, Castiel looked nearly perplexed at his choice of seating. Years he'd been coming here and had not once thought to sit on the rocks. Gingerly, he moved to sit next to the boy, and held his coffee between two hands once he'd managed. The view was just as nice from this vantage point, almost more like he was a part of it instead of just an observer.
"It seems possible," he admitted after a time. "and very good of you to consider it." Samandriel had always been good, faithful. Most angels were, of course, but not always in the same way.
Samandriel liked sitting next to Castiel, liked the way their shoulders brushed while they sat together. He looked out over the ocean and asked softly. “What kind of angel am I?” he asked. Good had already been stated, but that didn’t necessarily paint the whole picture
"A warrior, technically." A lot of angels were warriors -- but possibly because there just weren't many subsections; it didn't mean there weren't specifics for each, or at least many of them, also. "I am, too." But Castiel had always considered himself more properly suited for it than many others, certainly more than Samandriel.
"But also, Imagination." He looked a little wryly out at the ocean and traced his fingers around the lid of his coffee cup. Samandriel had always been better at the latter from what he could recall.
Samandriel closed his eyes while he thought about it. “I suppose that’s why my dreams have always been really vivid,” he said, opening his eyes to look up at Cas again. He’d also been really good at entertaining himself all his life. Cas was beautiful and Samandriel didn’t want to think about all the ways he could imagine himself doing with him. They started with those lips and he had to force himself to keep his gaze with Castiel’s so that he didn’t look at his lips and consider more things. He was a good boy. Good boys didn’t do this. “I wouldn’t think that I’d be very handy in a fight.”
Cas remained mostly oblivious to the younger man's considerations -- he'd always been a little slow on the uptake as far as things like these went, and now wouldn't be any different than usual. He had eyes for only one person, and Dean Winchester was the beginning, center and end of his universe, and everything in between that.
"You seemed to hold your own," Castiel said, finally lifting his coffee to too-chapped lips for a little drink. "But I am certain you had your preferences." He glanced away from the ocean view that he favored above all others and turned toward Samandriel. "Even if you do not remember, I am pleased to know you here. It is a very strange thing to wake and realized that you are not completely of this world. We will both have company in that now."
Samandriel nodded while he considered this further and then found himself leaning against Castiel, head on his shoulder comfortably like they really were brothers. He liked the mental image he had before of Castiel’s wing protecting him and so he held onto pretending he was being shaded and sheltered by it.
“I’ve never had a brother before,” he said softly, which probably meant that he should be reevaluating a great many things about himself, but now wasn’t the time.
Cas stilled, unable to help the feeling of surprise that washed over him at Samandriel's movement -- such genuine trust was just being handed to him without Castiel really needing to prove himself at all. It was strange, but he found he did not dislike it. He relaxed a little, leaning closer himself until they were nearly supporting each other.
Samandriel, even a near stranger in this world, was easy to love. Not in the same way that he loved Dean, of course. But like family, or at least a kindred spirit. "It can be nice," he said, sounding hesitant but honest. He'd never been very good with emotion but he'd been learning a lot lately, and trying harder than anyone could really know.
“You’ll show me?” Samandriel asked, but didn’t move out of whatever comfortable position they’d gotten themselves in. He closed his eyes and focused on Castiel next to him, on the warmth radiating off of him. This was the best feeling ever. Actual family and not just sometimes Abigail or Julia but mostly fending for himself. He didn’t realize how much he needed it until he had it.
And if he closed his eyes and breathed long enough, he could pretend that his own wings were nuding Castiel’s all tucked up and comfortable too. “I’ll let you know when the dreaming starts for me,” he whispered. He didn’t like breaking this silence, but he wanted to make sure it was a known thing.
"I will do my best," Castiel avowed. He took everything a little too seriously, and now he was taking this to task as well. He'd always been the youngest brother and son in this life, and while he had been good in a literal sense, he wasn't so sure he had been in a familial sense. But he would try, because -- well. How could he not?
And because Cas was Cas, he let the silence fall back over them, with his gaze out on the ocean. If Samandriel said he would tell him, he would. There was no reason to give any sort of verbal confirmation over it when they could just as easily sit in silence.
The silence and Castiel’s presence in general were so soothing to Samandriel that the younger man did, in fact, fall asleep just there leaning on him. He was safe. He had an older brother now and that brother would look after him. It was the only thing that made sense.
It was only after a few more long moments of silence that Castiel actually realized that Samandriel was sleeping. A feeling of such fondness swelled in him that he had to swallow it all back down in order to stay silent. Even swallowed, the feeling hummed happily in his chest.
Gingerly, he removed the coffee cup that was still between the younger mans' hands and set it to the side, before turning his gaze back out to the ocean. This was pleasant in a way he was sure he'd never really felt before, and he would not wake Samandriel. He could be home late, and it would be alright.