Title: "Salt and Feathers-1"
Prompt:30-C; 100_prompts
Genre: Family, Romance
Rating: T
Warnings: BL. None
Word Count: 1183
Summary:On strength, in the face of weakness.
You were given this life because you are strong enough to live it.
To Meg, as always.
Life
Cas braced himself against the head board. Dean was on his right and Sam on the left and Charlie in front, leaning against Dean's knees. They were watching some movie. Charlie was laughing as she chucked popcorn in Sam's direction. Sam, in a rare moment of levity, attempted to catch them with his mouth.
Cas leaned his shoulder into Dean's. Dean shifted to accommodate him, eyes trained on the movie.
Contempt
He was sweating. He wasn't accustomed to his human body. He assumed it may be the side effect of the nervousness. The man in front of him- pasty, balding, beak nosed- in intimidating black robes, looked down on him. "I hereby fine you $400 for contempt of court, Mr. Novak." He said.
Castiel sighs and wonders what else he would have to suffer for the smiling, sprightly daughter of his vessel.
Wrong
There's the smell of burnt eggs from the kitchen. The skillet is on fire. Flour dusts the kitchen like snowflakes. Cas is on the floor with his head in his hands, he couldn't even do simple things for the people he loved. His fingers dig into his scalp, welcoming the slight pain.
Cool hands ease his fingers from his scalp. Cas looks into concerned green eyes and suddenly, his shame feels more acute. He wants to burrow his face into his hands. His fingers flex and Dean tightens his grasp.
"It's just eggs. I'll teach you how to make them tomorrow." Dean promises.
Cas doesn't magically feel better, but he doesn't feel as useless as he did before. That makes all the difference.
Sweeten
Sam drinks his coffee black.
Charlie likes tea.
Claire loves mocha.
Dean always secretly adds an extra spoonful of sugar to his coffee.
Hands
Dean's hands are rough. They have stories scribbled in scars all across his hands. If they went outside, they're easily cold. They're always gentle when they brush Cas's hair back.
Strangle
Cas stared helplessly at Sam's bleeding shoulder. He had an overwhelming urge just to reach out and force Sam's shoulder to heal by sheer force of will. He had never felt so useless, so fragile, or so pathetic in his life before. The wave of emotions felt suffocating. He needed to get out, get away.. He stumbled out the door, choking on his apology. If it wasn't for him, Sam wouldn't have gotten hurt.
He didn't even want to think about what Dean must feel now. Cas was sure Dean hated him for letting this happen. Dean blamed him.. Dean...
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a jacket enveloping him. He looked up to meet Dean's gaze. He lowered his eyes, afraid of what he would see.
He felt Dean's knuckle tilt his chin up.
"None of that, Cas." Dean said, as if Dean knew exactly what was going through his head.
"It happens to us all. It wasn't your fault." Dean assured him, his voice gentle and coaxing.
He wanted to believe him, so badly. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against Dean's lips. He could have sworn he felt Dean lean forward a little.
Lullaby
Cas shivered under the three layers of sheets. He felt cold, his nose was stopped up. He was sweating under the heat of the blankets but it still didn't feel warm enough. Sam brought a bowl of porridge. He ate what he could stomach. Sam told him, he had contracted a fever. Cas was surprised because while could recognize the signs of fever in others in others, he wasn't able to diagnose them in himself.
He curled into his stomach to preserve as much heat as he could. Despite that, his body shivered violently. He cursed inwardly and threw back his sheets, lurching to the bathroom in time to throw up. Even when he drank alcohol for the first time he hadn't felt as bad as he did now.
He rested his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet, too tired to even move. He heard Sam before he saw him. Sam hauled him to his feet and tucked him under the covers. Cas mumbled his gratitude before tumbling into unconsciousness.
He was startled awake when the mattress dipped at his feet. He relaxed as he heard the first few bars of Hey Jude being hummed.
Untouchable
Castiel was the angel of the lord. He was one of heaven's weapons to be wielded by the will of God. He was born to serve. He was born to protect. He was the most perfect creation of God. He was untouchable.
Cas was imperfect. Cas was weak. He made mistakes he couldn't always rectify. He loved absolutely. He made choices that were his own. He was flawed and breakable. He was one of God's beloved creatures. He was human.
Whispered
He pushed Dean out of the way. The woman screeched violently at being thwarted and began to dig her mangled claws over Cas's heart. She made the inside of his body burn. He was gasping for air. The edges of his vision were blurry. It was almost a relief when his vision went black and he slumped down the wall. Cas faintly regretted not being able to tell him…
He first woke to whispers of furious arguments. The next time he woke, he felt the whisper of something warm and slightly silky brush over his forehead. The next time he woke was to Sam's cheerful greeting and the promise of breakfast as Dean still slept in an armchair by the bed.
Prayers
The one thing Castiel missed was the tug of prayer. He knew he was being called upon, in prayer or by name. He knew his name was spoken across Sunday schools, and by children carelessly murmuring each angel's name. The one he missed most was in a home with a little blind boy. Blind Castiel was born to a woman of great faith and a particular attachment to his name. She learned of him when her father died of liver failure. She prayed to him every night thereafter. She speaks to him as one would a friend. She had a soothing voice. There was calm in her heart. Castiel loved listening to her. She had almost felt like a friend. An ephemeral existence, but a friend nonetheless.
It is this that Cas misses most of all.
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Love,
Elle.