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Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-09-05 19:52:00

Who: Castiel, Samandriel
What: Music, emotions, wings, family
When: Wednesday - 04 September
Where: The Winchester Compound
Rating: Low-Medium, some kissing because sometimes angels speak better without words.
Status: Complete



As per their conversation, Samandriel arrived at Castiel’s with little delay. He’d changed into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was Wednesday. The draw for him to play at Lux seemed to be more the weekend than the middle of the week. Lucifer had issues, it seemed, with Samandriel working on school nights.

He arrived standing near the couch, but instead of saying anything at all, allowed the music to speak for him. He was far more angel now than he had been when Castiel had heard him last. There was more power in his music, more subtle tones that not only could mortal ears not catch at all, but those who had not heard angelsong would never understand fully.

Woven into the music were threads of war, not the glory of battle or intensity of violence, but the strains of someone who had not wanted to fight in the first place. Notes of fear and heartbreak and death all around, but it was not mournful. Samandriel’s song was as profound in its depths and layers of meaning (of loss and a wish for peace and so many other things,) that the only thing he knew to compare to it was Castiel’s devotion to Dean.

He was crying himself as he played, but he ignored it and knew that he would keep playing until Castiel actually covered his hand or otherwise forced him to stop. He had begun. Someone else needed to end it.

It was often assumed that just because Castiel did not show emotion well, it meant he didn't have any. This was not the case. More often than not, he felt too much. Particularly in the last few months, the elder angel was utterly overwhelmed and flooded in emotion. So much, he was often unsure of just how to deal with it.

Samandriel, he knew, would not think him odd for just standing in the middle of the living room with a perfect stillness that was nearly completely inhuman while he listened. He did not waver, he did not smile, he did not frown. He merely listened and watched until he no longer could.

It was like Remembering. In a musical format, which only made sense because the host did have a Song. There was always a song in Heaven, and it was not always happy, just like this song wasn't. It wasn't sad, either. It just was. And it was beautiful.

"Samandriel." Finally, Castiel shifted, just a slight change in posture more than moving.

Samandriel couldn’t hear his brother. He and the song were one and the same and he was lost to the imagining of it as Castiel’s voice was drowned out in the sound of it. The tears came. Later, there would be little salt splashes on his instrument and he would consider whether or not he wanted to polish them off or leave them on the varnish as a sign that he still had a soul and was not entirely made up of Grace just yet.

Awkwardly, Castiel let the music continue for a few moments more -- but it was hard to ignore Samandriel's tears in silence, not when they shouldn't have been there at all. He frowned to himself, stepped a little closer, and settled his hand on the younger angel's shoulder. Silent comfort and an ask for refrain, at least for the moment.

Touch, it seemed, was enough to break the song’s spell over Samandriel. He lowered his bow and then his instrument, but put neither down yet.

“When I spoke in response to you saying I wasn’t a burden,” he began softly and found he couldn’t look at Castiel. “I know sometimes when you’re around me, I make you feel like less than what you are. I can feel it radiating off of you like a slow leak of hurt and I know that nothing I can do will fix it.” His eyes were on his own bare feet and the hem of Castiel’s slacks. “If I could, I would cut off my wings and give them to you.”

It was fair. Fair that Samandriel could not look at him -- neither could Castiel look at Samandriel, his hand dropping to his side and his eyes flitting to the floor.

It wasn't helpful, he knew, to feel guilty about his hurt and wanting emotions, his envy and jealousy. It wasn't very good of him to think those things ever, and worse now that he knew Samandriel could tell. But he wasn't sure how to switch them off, either. Some mornings he woke up so empty and wanting, he couldn't even speak his thoughts on the matter, and that certainly was not his little brother's fault.

"I would not want your wings, Samandriel, even if you could offer them."

“No,” Samandriel said, because he knew that, “but I would still give you whatever pieces of fledgling Grace are in me to see you smile.” It wasn’t a romantic thing either, it was just what Samandriel was. He would give and give and give. If he thought it would help, he would’ve carved out his very soul too, would’ve handed Castiel both humanity and angelhood and hoped that it would help some.

Instead, he leaned up to press his forehead to Castiel’s, never mind that the other angel really wasn’t much taller than him. He would let his tears do as they would since they were clearly not done yet, and then perhaps sharing air and closeness would help heal the both of them.

“But as you like,” he whispered.

Castiel softened in a way that was nearly visible -- shoulders shifting just slightly until he was no longer completely stiff, and head tilting against Samandriel's. He would not argue that he had his own Grace, small as it may have been. He would not say that even though he Wanted, he did not need. Cas had what he needed here already, his tiny makeshift family. Dean, Samandriel, and in some regards even Garcia and Sam. He suspected Samandriel knew these things already. Often, it was what Castiel did not say what was the loudest.

"As you like," he repeated, tone soft, careful. When Samandriel finally put his instrument down, he would offer the kind of hug only family could give, and wipe those tears away as best he knew how. "You are not a burden to me."

Samandriel turned and set his bow and instrument down on the coffee table. He wasn’t sure what to do now, but he knew he needed to stay for a bit. It was why he’d come after all.

Cas hugged him, since that's exactly what he told himself he'd do. It was awkward, a little, at first which was probably wholly unsurprising. But he tried, he really did. "Would you like to speak of your concerns? I will make tea."

The thing about hugging Samandriel was that Samandriel was rather poor at letting go. He just kept his arms around Castiel’s waist, aware that the way their heads were together his dark brown hair was probably flopping over into Samandriel’s blonde. It mattered not at all. “I’ve already spoken of my concerns,” he whispered. “That’s why I brought the violin, but I’ll pass on the tea thank you.”

Perhaps the music had been enough, then. Castiel understood that, had gotten it. Which was good, because for as much as he offered, the elder man was not so good at conveying his thoughts into words and never had been. Strange, considering all the languages that he knew.

"All right," he said, and turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against Samandriel's forehead. They could stay like this for as long as the other man needed, Castiel would not mind.

Sometimes everything Samandriel poured into his music flowed out into the world even after he'd stopped playing. Somehow, it felt only natural for him to shift a little. He didn't even think about it. The intimacy of playing all that emotion for Castiel and then being allowed so close translated into action without thought but so full of care it was no less honest than now and strings had been. Kissing Castiel was an almost shy action that began with the sharing of air from the elder angel's lips and eased right into oh so gently tasting the source of it.

It spoke volumes that Castiel was unsurprised by this turn of events; that he did not pull away in shock or concern, but instead returned the kiss. What volumes were being spoken, he wasn't sure, but it hardly seemed to matter.

His lips were nearly chaste against Samandriel's, his position shifting just enough where he could bring his hands up, thumbs wiping away streaks of tears from cheeks. This was support he could offer, the words in his mouth silent, but not unheard.

Samandriel had seen the first flowers open. He had watched them stretch and bask in the newly old sun for the first time. So when he thought he rather felt like a flower, his own lips opening just enough against Castiel, he knew of what he was speaking. This was the kind of kiss he'd imagined when they first met. He was glad to know that even his imagination at the time had fallen short of reality.

His fingers stayed at Castiel's waist, loose and undemanding in their comfort. His body's response to the removal of the tears was simply to make more, but only perhaps because he saw the beauty in the moment. Things had changed after the first night they spent together the three of them. There would probably never be any going back. Samandriel was okay with that. He would take love where he could find it and not complain.

It was a slow learning process for Castiel, but many things were. Not two months ago he'd had a different name completely, and a different mind set. He was growing into things still -- many things. But he had an inkling now, just a little one, that love came in different facets.

Nothing and no one on this planet would ever rival the devotion he had for Dean, and that was a thing that was set in stone, would not change. But it did not mean he did not have a love for Samandriel, either. The affection he had for the other angel was deep and wholly different than what he had with his husband. It was not lesser, it was just -- something else. They were brothers, but more.

He sighed softly into Samandriel's mouth, offering lips and breath and only wiped those tears away further before pulling back a little to offer the younger angel an intense, serious gaze.

Samandriel felt himself finally stop the slow, silent trickle of tears down his face as he looked up at Castiel. Brothers but more echoed his sentiments exactly and he was glad to feel that understanding from him.

He was also glad he'd worn sweatpants since it made a few things not quite so obvious. He was young after all and his libido was new even to him. He leaned up and pressed a kiss of understanding where jaw met neck and finally pulled away.

There was only one angel of silence, but that didn't mean that only Duma could communicate without words at all. It might hurt Castiel's heart, but it wouldn't all be a bad kind of pain so Samandriel let his wings out into the visible (and tangible) spectrum to bring them close where Castiel was invited to touch. His gaze wasn't the same kind of imploring that Lucifer got from him, but closer to hopeful, a desire for closeness and acceptance he could only get with one other.

Knowing it was no secret, Castiel settled into that strange feeling of envy at seeing those wings. He wanted his, thought if only he could have them, stretch them and fly again, he might be completely -- well. Complete? But that wasn't all, not just envy. There was some pride at seeing those wings, a feeling of strange security. Never would these two be completely alone with what they were. It was a relief.

Although he was not sure what Samandriel exactly wanted or needed, he stood silent and near, fingers brushing against feathers (angelic, different from birds, somehow), in a way that was still so curious and innocent. Despite the kissing, his intentions were not sexual and did not need to be.

Samandriel nudged his nose under Castiel’s jaw, cuddling even as they were still standing. He settled against him, eyes closed while he enjoyed that contact. “You don’t have to be so gentle with them, you know,” he murmured. “Reverence doesn’t suit you right now.”

The snort Castiel let out at that was nearly a reminder that he did, in fact, harbor some amount of humor. Not any that was easily found or accessed, but it was there. "I can't just choose the emotions I would like," he said, but firmed his stroke of the feathers slightly, really getting a feel for the texture there even as he rested his cheek against the top of Samandriel's head.

"And I'm--" he paused, as if considering his words. Cas often did that, making sure that his responses were controlled, smart, as concise as possible. "--behaving." They'd never quite spoken about this, not really.

Samandriel considered that for a moment. “I know,” he said simply. “I can feel you. I’m getting better at telling the difference between my own feelings and someone else’s. Besides, I’m the ancient being stuck in a teenage body. Nobody should be surprised when things...affect me whether I want them to or not.”

Nodding, Samandriel's hair brushed against his face, soft and a bit of a comfort. "I know," he repeated, "I don't think anyone is, not anymore." But that didn't mean that behavior, at least on some levels, wasn't expected.

Samandriel shifted to kiss his brother again just briefly. “Perhaps not,” he murmured. His ear twitched and he stepped back. “Dean’s coming down the alley,” he said. “Maybe we should talk to our respective partners and see for certain where our lines are.”

"Perhaps," Castiel said, sounding thoughtful, but vaguely cautious as well. It was a strange topic, and not one that he ever thought would ever need be brought to light. But apparently it did. "It might be wise."

He moved away, too, going to unlock the door for Dean, and feeling a little strange over the fact that Samandriel could hear and sense what he could not.

Samandriel watched the other angel move away with the kind of look that someone who had seen far too much tended to get when he was sure another loss was only inevitable. Near silently, he picked up his bow and violin and then left to speak with Lucifer.