Sam stares up at his building, seeing nothing but red. His knuckles blanch from his death grip on the steering wheel. The lights are on in his apartment, but he can't go inside now. Maybe he should never go back because he's not sure what he'll do the next time he sees Castiel. This is the first time he has ever thought himself to be capable of murder.
That question Dean asked plays on repeat in Sam's head: "How did you meet this guy?"
"Short version? He was Ruby's dance instructor."
The long version began six years ago, with Sam naked in bed beside his beautiful wife.
He let her kiss him. Tucked his thigh between her legs and let her writhe like a snake, using his body for her pleasure. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back. Finally, she sighed and stilled. Sam wiped her dark hair out of her face and apologized, again.
In the beginning, he could close his eyes, let his body react to her touch and give her what she needed. As time went on, it became more challenging to get himself there, no matter who or what he imagined. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.
"It's okay. Sam." She kissed him. "You're under a lot of stress right now. I know that."
That much was true. Sam had done little more than train and sleep since they'd relocated to Pittsburgh. He could see why Ruby would blame this on that.
"What we need," she said, "is something we do for fun, just for us. "
"Wow."
Sam's face warmed at the word being used to describe him; his crotch responded to the source. In the wall length mirrors, he tracked the fluid movements of the dark-haired man who skulked around his body, appraising Sam as if he were on an auction block.
"Ru-baby, you have been holding out. Then again, if I had something like this at home I'd chain it to the bed and never, ever let him see the light of day."
Surprisingly, Sam didn't have a problem with being ogled like he was a piece of meat. In fact, he loved it, and that was the problem. His heart raced, even as he struggled to keep his breath even. Ruby and the other women laughed at the spectacle their dance teacher was creating, but they might as well have melted through the hardwood floor for as much as Sam cared. As long as he stood still, the focus would remain on his face and not on the stiffy straining against the zipper of his jeans. He gave a tortured chuckle and let the man complete his orbit.
Sam did his best to ignore the moon-white skin, hair like a starless night and the flawless ass that had been poured into purple leather pants. He bit his cheek, allowed his bicep to be squeezed, and felt his face flush as the man raised his brow in approval. Sam's lips parted, and he promptly snapped them shut.
Ruby grinned like it was prime time television. "Sam, this is Castiel Novak."
Sam had already figured that this was the Cas of whom his wife so often spoke. Apparently, Ruby got everything from fashion tips to sex advice from her dance instructor. He was even surprisingly knowledgeable about women's health issues. Also, according to Ruby, Castiel Novak had performed on Broadway until a torn meniscus had put him out of commission. Now he was teaching ballet, tap, modern and ballroom dancing for couples.
Ruby talked about him so much, Sam felt like he already knew the man.
"Pleasure."
Castiel answered Sam's outstretched hand with an unabashed look at his crotch. "I just bet."
Ruby laughed and rested her hand on Sam's arm. "I told you, he's harmless."
"Talking about me? I love it." Castiel smiled at Ruby and offered Sam a limp wristed handshake that was more stereotypically feminine than his wife's.
Sam cleared his throat and ignored the heat rising in his chest. It was harder to overlook the way Cas wet his lips, or how his steel blue eyes watched Sam's mouth. "Ruby tells us you play catch for a living."
Sam chuckled. "Something like that." He nodded more than was necessary, aware how stupid he must look, but unable to stop himself.
"Have you ever taken a dance class, Sammy? Some athletes swear by it."
"No, I never have." Sam shook his head, scratched the back of his neck and began searching for the nearest exit.
"That's all right. I'm plenty experienced for the both of us." Castiel's smirk should have been illegal. The acts it brought to Sam's mind were prohibited in parts of the world.
Five minutes into it, Sam began to understand how excruciating this class would be. The hour would mostly consist of trying not to watch Castiel while simultaneously imitating his every movement. Keeping his eyes on the female instructor wouldn't work because Sam was supposed to be mimicking Cas' steps.
Fat chance of that, too. Sam had always danced like there was a pole up his ass. That fact had never bothered him. He'd have been just as happy to sit in the corner, jerking off while Castiel tapped his foot, scratched his head, or checked his watch. The guy was twenty different kinds of sexy, no matter what he was doing.
Finally, Sam excused himself to the bathroom and shook his head at the sweaty freak in the mirror.
Water.
Castiel moved like water.
Fuck.
Sam splashed water on his face, zipped down his fly and stepped in front of the urinal.
He had never had true sympathy for the gazelles in those nature documentaries before the moment Castiel stepped into that bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder, body instantly overheated. He shook off his cock and started to put himself away. Before he had zipped his fly, Castiel shoved up against him, forcing Sam to brace himself on the wall to avoid falling forward into his piss.
"I read an article about you. The squeaky clean All-American."
For some reason, Sam kept his back turned and allowed his chest to be pawed, as if refusing to face this predator would make him less real.
"Do I make you curious, Sammy?" The cocky smile saturated Castiel's voice. "You think I can dirty you up?"
"No." Sam barely managed to breathe the word as Castiel grabbed his rapidly responding cock.
"Oh, my. You're proportionate, aren't you?" Castiel rubbed his face between Sam's shoulder blades and began to jerk him at a relentless pace.
"What are you…" Sam gasped and fought for some semblance of control.
"Know how I know you're interested, Sam?"
Sam shook his head, burning despite the cold tile beneath his hands and cheek. He was in abler hands than he'd ever been. He wasn't even sure he could handle himself that well. Wave after wave of white hot pleasure coursed through him as Castiel reduced him to a quaking, whimpering mess.
"A strictly straight boy would have kicked my ass the moment I looked at his cock."
Sam's knees weakened. He panted for air as Castiel mercilessly stripped his shaft.
"That good, Sammy? Huh? Yeah. It's good, isn't it? Look at you, being so still for me. What a good boy you are."
Sam cried out and splattered his release against the urinal wall. He crumbled forward, eyes shielded by his forearm, while he struggled to regain his composure. Then he turned to face Castiel, even if he was still unable to meet the man's eyes.
Castiel stepped away and hummed as he licked Sam's slick from his fingers. He snickered and left Sam alone to deal with himself.
Sam's head spun, pulse raced, and he strongly considered spending the remaining half hour hiding out in the bathroom. But if Ruby asked, he could just blame his ruddy face and elevated pulse on the dancing. So, after an additional five minutes of pulling himself together, he practiced a smile in the mirror and returned to the studio.
Sam had hardly walked back into the studio when Castiel called him forward to demonstrate the kick-ball-chain step they had learned. Sam declined and lowered his heating face. Ruby, however, pushed him forward while the rest of the class clapped with what they would call encouragement, but basically amounted to peer pressure. Once again, the women did a poor job hiding laughter behind their hands. All the men raised their brows and looked relieved not to be the one on display.
Castiel wrapped his hands around Sam's hips and swayed him side to side. "You have to relax. That's the whole secret. You let go and let your body do what it's meant to do." Castiel pushed gently as if he was just limbering Sam's hips instead of sending his body temperature into feverish territory. "Just like that. Good. Do you recognize this man, Ruby?"
Ruby laughed and clapped with the rest of the class, as if Cas had turned water to wine instead of merely getting a football player to dance. But Sam knew, better than any of them, that this man was capable of miracles and wonders. Instinctively, he also knew that if he followed this man, he would end his days upside on a cross.
Sam winced as he pushed Ruby's hair from her forehead. Whenever he had seen those guys in the movies, sneaking out to cheat on their wives, he'd looked down his nose and known he could never be that kind of sleazeball. As much as the thought curdled his blood, there wasn't a force in heaven or hell that could have changed his trajectory. He was a man compelled.
The mat outside of Castiel's apartment read 'FUCK OFF!' Sam turned his back to the door, scrubbed his hands over his face, and walked back down the hall, cursing himself the entire way.
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing inside of Castiel's apartment leering at the way his slim, angular body moved in a midnight blue, Chinese silk robe. Sam could only identify the music coming through the speakers as opera. The voices soared and caressed some nerve he never knew he possessed. Until then, he had always listened to whatever was popular without caring who any of the bands were. Somehow, this music seeped through his skin and liquified his bones.
Castiel brought him a tumbler of bourbon, grinned and disappeared down a hallway. Less than a minute later, his voice rang out across the apartment and over the music. "You just gonna stand there with your mouth hanging open?"
As much as he could have used the liquid courage, Sam left the drink on the coffee table. When he reached the door Castiel had entered, the older man turned and held out his hand. "Come here. Feel how soft this is."
It was more like floating than walking, as Sam crossed the threshold into Castiel's room. He rubbed the smooth fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Castiel pinched his chin, and Sam's breath caught in his throat like he'd never been touched in his life before.
"Such a handsome boy, Sam. You ever play doctor with little Davey across the street?"
Sam shook his head.
"Never had a secret boyfriend?"
Sam swallowed. The shaking of his head was voluntary. He had no control over the way the rest of his body trembled.
"No?" Castiel popped the first button on his shirt. "You ever want to?"
Sam inhaled until he thought his lungs would burst.
A smile spread over Castiel's face as he opened the next button, slowly, with both hands. "So, what do you want to do to me?"
Sam couldn't have spoken, even if he'd known what to say.
"Do you want to fuck me, Sam?"
He nodded, reduced to little more than a speechless, dry mouth, and a weeping cock.
Castiel brought Sam's sweaty palms to the sash of his robe. Obeying the silent command to untie it earned him a word of praise that swelled his pride and his dick even more.
With an impossibly elegant roll of Castiel's shoulders, the fabric pooled to the floor around his ivory feet.
Sam was used to the sleek musculature of running backs and the powerful physiques of the blockers - all alluring in their own way. He often mused to himself that being in the locker room was akin to being a starving man at a smorgasbord, where he was neither allowed to touch nor look too long, lest the food rise up and kick his ass.
But Castiel was a different breed of beautiful. His dancer's body was all sleek lines and exquisitely formed limbs that Sam longed to lick. He ached to tangle his fingers in that thick, ink-black hair. Sam drank in ocean-blue eyes and the constantly simpering mouth.
He had waited his entire life, never expecting this moment to actually come. In fact, on the day he married Ruby, he had resigned himself to the idea that hers would be the second and last body he ever entered. He had assumed he would never have a man.
Castiel's erection strained against a lacy, white thong. He caught Sam's chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragged his face up so that their eyes met. "I'm up here."
Sam nodded.
"Good boy." Castiel leaned over a desk and spanked his own ass, once, but so hard he left an angry red print. "I'm going to want you to ram that monster cock so far up my ass I can taste you come."
Sam huffed.
"You want to spank me, Sam? Hm? Come on. Spank me. For what I did today. The way I touched you without permission. You should punish me for that. Make me pay, Sam. Please." He lifted on his tiptoes so that his pretty, pink asshole was on full display.
Shuddering, Sam ran his tanned hand over Castiel's smooth, creamy skin, admiring the contrast. "Do you shave?"
Castiel laughed. "You ask a question like that, at a time like this? How old are you, Sammy?"
"Twenty."
With his neck craned to look over his shoulder, Castiel's expression melted from hard lust to a kind of tenderness Sam hadn't expected. "Oh, darling. What have I done to deserve this? Yes, I wax, sweetheart, because a bare cunt is so much nicer than a gnarly forest, wouldn't you agree? Doesn't Ruby shave for you?"
Sam jolted, shaking his head. "Can we not ... talk about her?"
"Of course, honey. Anything you want. If you want to call me by her name, I couldn't care less." Castiel pulled Sam's fingers into his mouth and sucked until they were sopping wet.
Overcome by another wave of heat, Sam leaned over Castiel's back to catch his breath. His wet hand was lead to Cas' entrance. "Finger my pussy, baby. Come on."
Sam stood upright, eager to do as he was told. His mouth parted as his forefinger sank into Castiel. The low rumble of Cas' moan was an octave Ruby's voice would never reach. Sam stretched his other hand around, reveling in his smooth, firm chest. He pinched a taut nipple between his fingers.
Castiel threw back his head and gifted Sam with another perfect growl. Still slowly working the finger in and out of him, he ran his left palm over the ridges of Castiel's ribs and down the ripple of his abs. Sam held Castiel with a finger in his ass, the other palm on his hip - convinced that he could climax from touching this man.
When Sam reached for his cock, Cas pushed him away. "Don't."
The scolded hand retreated to clutch Castiel's hip, and the raven-haired man pushed back onto Sam's finger. "Give me two."
"Don't we need ... you know, lube?" Just because it was his first time didn't mean Sam hadn't researched - a lot.
"I like it dry."
"Doesn't that hurt?"
"Yeah," Castiel answered.
Sam dribbled spit onto his ass and worked it in with two fingers. Castiel arched his back and Sam traced down his sensually curved spine.
"Spank me."
The sharp sting burned Sam's palm.
"Harder."
Sam struck him again, setting off a flare in his own groin.
"Fucking hit me, Sam."
He obeyed, and Castiel made the most amazing sound Sam had ever heard. It was a cross between a shout, a whimper, and a moan. Sam struck him again and again until his hand felt like it was on fire. Then he pumped three fingers into his ass, milking Castiel for more of his heavenly sounds.
"God, Sam. Your hands. Harder."
"Do what harder?" Sam asked. He was already concerned he was hurting the man.
"Everything."
Sam smacked Castiel's right cheek with his left hand. He pulled his fingers all the way out of his ass and jammed them back in again. Castiel's body lurched back and forth until Sam's forearm began to ache.
"Don't move."
Cas groaned at the loss of his fingers but stayed put while Sam's shaky fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. He stroked himself swiftly, his left thumb circling Castiel's hole. It was open wider than before but still looked pretty tight. "Are you ready?"
"Always, sweetheart."
Sam drew the condom from his breast pocket, ripped it open with his teeth and started to roll it on.
Castiel caught his wrist. "I'm offended, Sam."
"I just…"
"You're not going to get anything from me."
"Yeah, I know, but…" As much as he would have loved to fuck Castiel bare - God, just the thought of it - the least he could do for Ruby was be safe. "Castiel, you sure you don't have lotion or something..."
"There's lube on your rubber. Come on. Give it to me."
Sam shook his head and lined himself up. Castiel tucked his left arm behind his back for Sam to hold. Sam spat on his hole again. Then he drove in, as slow as he could without going insane.
Castiel's head tilted back. "Jesus, fuck, that's a big cock."
He tensed for a moment, then relaxed so completely that his entire body shifted like a ragdoll as Sam pressed into him. Sam gripped his forearm tightly and pulled him into a standing position. Castiel sighed out a long breath and wrapped his free arm back around Sam's neck. With his left hand splayed on Castiel's stomach, Sam reached for his cock.
"I said, no."
Sam wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist and bit down on his shoulder. He pulled out, drove all the way into him, and came undone, whimpering and shaking, as if it was his very first time.
Standing at the door, some hours later, Sam pulled away from Castiel's kiss. He shook his head at the cold fact that being with this stranger had been more gratifying than anything he'd ever done with Ruby. It didn't seem fair that everything she gave him would never be enough. Castiel wiped his brow. "You think too much."
Sam smiled sadly. "Probably true."
Castiel's smile was every bit as warm and brilliant as Sam didn't feel. "How about you let this be the one place you don't do that. You come here to feel good. Okay? Leave all those deep thoughts outside."
Sam nodded and let himself be dragged into one last searing kiss before he went home to his wife.
Sam's dad stood as his son approached their families' corner table. He greeted Sam with a broad wide smile and a hearty clap on the shoulder. "There's my boy."
"Sorry, I'm late, everyone."
Ruby shot him a look that conveyed, 'Where were you? I called. We'll talk about this later.' in the span of one second.
Sam took the open seat between his mother and his sister, spreading his arms across the backs of their chairs and planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. Ruby smiled as Mary brushed invisible lint from his tie.
"Alright," Sam's dad announced. "Since we're doing a twofer here, I'm going to toast Sam and Avrim will toast the beautiful couple."
Ruby's father began with an unsurprising declaration: "When Ruby first told me she wanted to get married, I said to Judith, he's a nice enough boy, but he's too young. It'll never work…"
Mr. Salins had been permitted to give a speech at their wedding. It was a minor miracle that they weren't all still sitting in the hotel listening to him wax poetic, philosophical and very rarely comical. If one thing could be said for Sam's father-in-law, though, the man was unflinchingly honest. Ten minutes later, he was explaining why he and his wife didn't yet love Sam like a son, but that they expected some day it might come to that point. Ruby pulled on his pants leg and whispered, "Daddy."
Avrim nodded and lifted his glass. Everyone at the table followed suit. "But as son-in-laws go, we could do much worse. And so, to Sam and Ruby, we raise our glasses. Two years behind you and a lifetime ahead. Mazel tov and may your lives together continue to pleasantly surprise us."
As Avrim sat, Sam's dad cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "I'm going to keep this brief because you already know how proud you make your mother and I."
"Me, too," Jo chirped, and everyone laughed.
Sam squeezed her arm and smiled.
His dad went on. "Sam. Happy birthday, boy. We love you, and we've always known what a wise young man you are. That's why Ruby came as no shock to us. I always told you, you find a good one, snatch her up. You've both done that. You got a good man there, Ruby." He raised his glass.
"I know it, sir." She smiled softly at Sam.
"To my son."
Everyone at the table drank to the toast. People at nearby tables smiled. Jo lifted her glass of apple juice. "Can I make one?"
"Of course." Mary grinned at Sam, who rested his chin on his fist to listen.
Jo cleared her throat like their dad had done. "To Sam. The best brother ever. Also Ruby, who was very smart to marry him."
"Here here." Ruby clinked glasses with Jo across the table.
As they all settled down, the waiter offered Sam a wine menu. While legally, he could have ordered alcohol, he didn't want to wreck everyone's evening with a surprise performance. He'd never had a drop in his life; this wasn't the night to start. He declined the menu and asked for water.
Sam asked his mom about their flight. She asked him about training. Everyone placed their orders. Sam leaned over to Jo and whispered behind his hand, "Great toast. Best one."
His little sister beamed.
Sam basked in the sight of the smiling faces and animated conversation around the table until Jo asked, "Can I smell?"
"What?"
She pointed to the fingers Sam had subconsciously been holding below his nose every few minutes so that he could breathe in the subtle, musky scent of Castiel. The smell lingered, even though Sam had showered before rushing to this gathering. He chuckled and pointed to the book in Jo's lap. "What are you reading?"
She handed over the thick hardcover copy of the Chronicles of Narnia. Sam immediately recognized its tattered pages and flipped open the cover.
For Sam,
May your life be full of journeys and adventures.
Love, Dad
He smoothed his hand over the dedication. "Good book."
Sam shut his locker and smiled warily at his new teammates.
"Yo, Winchester." One of the tight ends sat on the bench, lacing up his shoes. "You in, man?"
Across the room, a defensive tackle tossed his gym bag over his shoulder and said, "It's some Puerto Rican girls that's just -"
"Dyyyyyyin' to meetcha," they sang together.
"Nice." Sam laughed and shook his head. "I can't, though. My folks are in town."
"You religious or something, aren't you? One of those guys that don't party, right?"
"No. I don't, usually." Sam flashed his ring finger. It had served as a powerful shield in college and continued to strike reverence into the hearts of all who saw it.
The tackled visibly flinched. The blocker just shook his head. "Man. How'd she get you to do that? Knocked up? You got kids?"
"No. Just an amazing woman." The best part was, it was entirely true. Sam never had to lie about that.
He propped up on an elbow to get a better view of the beauty beside him.
Castiel smirked, but didn't open his eyes. "You should take a picture."
Sam chuckled, a little embarrassed at having been caught staring.
"You know what? We should." Castiel sat up. "Let's make some pictures."
"I don't know if that's…"
"Trust me, Sammy. It's a good idea." He hopped out of bed.
Sam grinned, never tired of watching Castiel move, especially when every inch of him was bare. Apparently aware of his audience, Cas lifted his left leg - knee to ear, foot straight to the ceiling - and smirked over his shoulder before he cartwheeled from the room.
Less than a minute later, he returned with a professional-looking camera. "On your knees. Point that fucking monster at the camera and jack yourself. Slow. There you go. Nice and slow. That's good … Eat that pre-come... You heard me. Put it in your fucking mouth … Suck it. Good boy. That's really good."
Sam followed every instruction like a good soldier until he was on the verge of exploding. Castiel stepped forward and gripped him tight at the base of his cock. "Mm-mm. I'm not done with you. Turn around."
Castiel snapped photos of Sam holding his ass cheeks wide open, fingering himself, fucking himself with a dildo. The more he shot, the more Sam allowed himself to get lost in Castiel's orders and praise.
Then, Cas handed him the camera, but he required no prompting and no directions. The first thing he did was lay on the bed with his body turned sideways to display the magnificent swell of his thigh and the torque of his obliques. His dick wasn't visible from where Sam stood, but it didn't matter. Sam's jaw dropped, and he gaped, the camera dangling in one hand while he stroked himself with the other.
"Sam. Shoot."
The son of a drill sergeant never needs to be told twice. He shuddered and spilled all over Castiel's feet. For a moment, Cas mouth fell open. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "God, you're fucking adorable. I meant the camera."
"Oh. Oh, shit."
"You're amazing." Cas lifted a foot to his mouth and licked it clean.
Between his filthy moans, the flexibility required to assume that position and every fucking thing about Castiel, Sam's cock twitched, as if it had more to give.
Cas scooted to the end of the bed with his eyes turned up to be sure Sam was watching as he cleansed Sam's hand with his tongue. The man was a controlled substance: dangerous and intoxicating. Sam would have given anything to be able to taste him. He stroked Cas' coarse hair. "Can I…"
Castiel tucked his erection between his thighs and snapped his knees shut.
Already accustomed to that reaction, Sam returned his focus to Castiel's tongue playing between with his fingers. He raised the camera and snapped a shot of that, as well as a few of Castiel sucking his thumb.
Sam whispered, "Stop." and took a dozen pictures of Castiel's face. He looked up from the viewfinder, heat washing over him like a baptism by fire. "God, you're beautiful."
Somehow Cas managed to combine 'I know.' and 'You lie.' into one expression. He took the camera from Sam's hands. "Come here."
He pressed their lips together, trapping Sam's skull in his free hand while snapping off a series of their tongues tangling in the space between their mouths. Castiel licked Sam's soft palate and massaged the inside of his cheek, sensations he had never felt before.
Sam closed his eyes to give himself over to the merciless ways Castiel toyed with him. He was an instrument in the hands of a virtuoso, tuned and ready to perform any song, any task that was requested of him. He would work magic, levitate, conquer galaxies for more of what Castiel gave him.
Cas set down the camera, stood, and pushed Sam down onto the bed. He climbed onto his lap so that they were facing. Just as Castiel started to wrap his arms around his neck, Sam shouted, "Fuck!"
"Mmm. Let's." Castiel rolled his hips, grinding his ass over Sam's nearly recovered cock.
Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. He gripped Castiel's hips to make him stop. "I totally forgot. I have to take my parents to the airport."
"Well, that's no fun." Cas groaned and crawled past Sam up the bed. "You just love 'em and leave 'em, don't you?"
Sam huffed. He and Castiel hadn't used that word. He hadn't even thought it. He had done precisely what Castiel had said: come to this apartment time and again and left all of the stress of the outside world on Cas' FUCK OFF! mat.
Anyway, it was just a turn of phrase. 'Love 'em and leave 'em' was just a thing that people say. Castiel hadn't confessed his undying devotion. They had only been screwing for a couple of months, and as much as Sam loved what they were doing, he'd always thought of love as being something different. Something more than just mind-blowing sex.
"I got to go."
After a quick shower, he stood at the foot of Castiel's bed, getting dressed. "I'm sorry."
When Castiel shook his head, it looked like a pardon. Then he asked, "Why don't you introduce me?"
"Good one."
Castiel crawled down the bed to kneel in front of him. He flicked open the button on Sam's shirt that he had just fastened. "You love me?"
Sam's stomach sank. Somehow, he had seen this coming. He needed to get to his folks in fifteen minutes. It was no time for philosophy. No time for asking himself, what is Love?
All he knew was that Love wasn't fucking someone's brains out, even if you did it every other day.
Then again, was Love the thing he had with Ruby, where he gave her part of himself and withheld so much? Could you claim to love someone if all you ever did was lie to them? For that matter, did Sam even love his parents? Did he love anyone, really, the way he would want to be loved - with honesty and acceptance and trust?
For the first time, it crashed in on Sam that for all the picture book smiling he did, he was completely alone. Castiel was the only person who knew every piece of him.
Considering that, Sam gave the only answer that didn't make him feel like an asshole. "Of course."
"Show me."
"Wh … How?"
"Introduce me to your parents." Castiel's hand smoothed down his shirt. "Just as someone you know. We can do it with Ruby there. Just say I'm the best dance teacher you ever had." He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, tempest-blue eyes so sincere.
"Cas…"
"Liar." Castiel stepped from the bed and stormed out of the room.
After Sam had finished dressing, he sought out Castiel to apologize again and say a proper goodbye. When Sam called out for him, he didn't answer, and Sam was already running late.
Sam kissed his mom and his little sister. His dad pulled him into a rough, one-arm embrace that ended with two manly taps on his back. The old man nodded his head, eyes suspiciously glassy. "Hold down the fort, son."
"Yes, sir."
"We'll be back for the first game," he vowed. "Alright, ladies, let's move."
Sam glanced in the driver's mirror with the phone nestled between his ear and shoulder. He pressed his lips together and did his level best to breath normally. "I can't right now, sweetie. Emergency meeting in a few minutes."
Ruby was an infinitely patient woman, but this was the third session of couple's therapy he'd blown off in a row, and her frustration was evident in the way she said his name.
Sam could understand why she was peeved. Things were not exactly cooking in the bedroom, unlike in the car. Sam rested his hand on Castiel's neck and tossed back his head just for a second. The phone slipped, and he scrambled to catch it. "I'm sorry. I'll be at the next one, I swear."
"Are you working out?"
"Yeah." Sam allowed himself the grunt he'd been holding behind his teeth since it corroborated with the story Ruby had invented. "Fucking leg curls."
"Sam!" She had asked him not to swear quite so much.
Sam would never understand her reasons, just like Ruby would never understand his testosterone-laden work environment, where every third word was an expletive. "Our home is not a locker room," she had said, and Sam had conceded the point, because - why fight? Both his dad's and father in law's (only partly) facetious advice for a happy home had been: 'Happy wife, happy life.'
"Sorry. Leg curls," he corrected himself.
"Fine. I'll reschedule," she said, deflated. "I really thought the first session helped, Sam. Didn't you?"
"Yeah. Babe, look. I got to go. We'll talk about it tonight."
"'Kay. I love you?" She had developed a nerve-wracking habit of making a declaration into a question when she was disappointed.
"Me, too." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the floor. "Jesus." Sam slid his right middle finger down the crack of Castiel's ass, deliciously visible in his skin-tight pants.
Castiel always favored black leather, and it favored him right back. He sat up and grinned. "Leg curls. You're hilarious."
In Sam's defense, there had been a last minute team meeting called that afternoon. That had been over for an hour when he got Ruby's call.
Sam was on his way to a convenience store to buy lube, because no matter how much Castiel said he could take Sam without, it freaked him out. Besides, he held on to hope that he could talk Castiel into flipping for once.
Sam had made the mistake of letting Cas tag along. Now that stupidity/generosity was being punished/rewarded - by having his entire cock swallowed.
"Oh, fuck." Sam's legs shook involuntarily as he came apart, long and hard.
He leaned forward, inadvertently crushing Castiel's head into the steering wheel. Sam's vision cleared just in time for him to right the car and avoid colliding with an oncoming wagon load of old ladies.
"Fuck, Cas. Fuck."
Castiel sat up and licked the corner of his mouth. "You shouldn't talk to a lady that way."
Sam chuckled, still struggling to catch his breath.
Castiel's face remained utterly serious, lips pursed in a librarian's glare. "Would you say that to Ruby?"
Sam's mouth fell open. Actually, Ruby was the adventurous one. She was constantly trying to get him to experiment, when all Sam ever wanted to do was fulfill his husbandly duties, in missionary position, as quickly as possible and be done with it.
But Cas had Sam figured out. He would never say that to his wife. Would never growl, "Fuck, Ruby." to her, in case she thought it was crass and pornographic. In all fairness, though, she had also never deep-throated him in a residential neighborhood in the middle of the day.
Sam kept waiting for Castiel to say he was kidding. When it didn't happen, he started to mumble an apology that was interrupted by a police siren.
He took the moment before the officer approached to put his cock away and zip his pants. While the man waited for Sam's ID, he muttered the gruff standard: "You know why I pulled you over?"
"No, sir," Sam answered with all the respect he'd been taught to show those who protect and serve.
"You were weaving pretty serious there. You been drinking?"
"No, sir." Sam handed over his license and registration, only peripherally registering how silent Castiel had become.
He was practically blending with the upholstery.
"Winchester. I thought you looked familiar. Aren't you the Steelers' new boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hot damn!" The officer slapped his knee. "Welcome to town, boy. We got high hopes for you. God knows we need the new blood."
Sam chuckled, a thin tendril of relief allowing him to relax. "Thank you, sir."
"You haven't been drinking, have you, son?" It looked as though it pained the officer to even ask the question.
"No, sir. I don't drink."
"Well…" The cop looked at his ID, clearly contemplating his next move. "You need to start driving like you throw."
Sam chuckled. "Yes, sir. I will work on that."
"Why don't you sign this for my kid and we'll get you on your way."
Sam gave his autograph and tucked his license back into his wallet. The officer held up his pointer finger. "All the way, right?"
"Absolutely. Super Bowl or bust."
Just as Sam was beginning to see the light at the end of this tunnel, the policeman leaned down and cast a confused scowl at Castiel. Cas sat stone still with his hands on his knees, staring forward out of the windshield like a pod person.
"Hey. Buddy. You got ID?"
Castiel rolled his eyes without turning to face the officer. "Is there a reason you want it?"
Sam's heart pounded against his chest like a fist.
"Do you want to detain us or are we free to go?"
The officer narrowed his eyes and looked back at Sam. After another moment of deliberation, he nodded and said, "Warning this time."
"Thank you, sir."
The cop gave Castiel another glance and strolled back to his car.
Sam drove off, pulse on overdrive, doing 20 MPH in a 60 MPH hour zone. Once they had gone a few miles, Castiel melted like ice on a griddle. He slapped Sam's thigh. "Hot damn, boy."
Sam's heart rate had not returned to normal, and Cas' sudden liveliness unsettled his nerves further. He gripped the wheel tight and took a deep breath. The fresh air seemed to chill his entire body.
Castiel ran his hand over his hair. "I swear, I never set out to be a star fucker, but if I told you some of the supposedly straight men who have come up my ass, it would make your head spin."
Sam's head was already spinning. The car may as well have been whirling like a top in the middle of the road.
Not for the first time, Sam told himself he had to get out of this. Over the previous months, he had tried to cancel and refuse invitations, but could never bring himself to miss a single opportunity to be hiding away in Castiel's lair like there was no outside world. It was the only place where he could ignore calls from his wife and his agent, and just be. But this was a wholly different matter: driving in broad daylight with his cock down Castiel's throat was just plain stupid.
Sam had become a junkie and had come this close to being caught with a needle hanging from his veins. Castiel was a drug that Sam kept doing every chance he got. More and more often he was stealing time from other things to get that high. The traffic stop was his signal flare to kick this habit, once and for all.
"Castiel. This is … not working."
"I'd figured you'd say that. We can keep it at my place."
"No, I…, " Sam stuttered. "I've already been thinking that I need to do this differently. Everything. I need to … For one thing, I can't just keep cheating on my wife … "
"With a man," Castiel added casually.
"With…" Sam's vision blurred for a second, ice rushing through his veins.
It was as if the full potential danger of the police officer's scrutiny was finally catching up with him. "That guy just totally … people are already fucking recognizing me here. What the hell am I doing?"
"It's okay. It's okay, Sam."
Sam gawked at the hand caressing his arm. He shook his head for a full ten seconds before he could speak again. "I can't… We need to stop this. Right now. I'll take you home. That's it."
Castiel's head tilted, his eyes piercing Sam's as he whispered, "You want to just throw me away?"
"That's not … Not what I said," Sam muttered.
"I'm in love with you, Sam. That means nothing to you?"
"How?" Sam's voice was high, nearing hysteria, as he tried to focus on the road as well as the impossible conversation. "I mean, all we've done for the last three months -"
"Don't you dare," Castiel hissed like a viper. "Don't you belittle our connection. I let you into my body. You're part of me."
Sam blinked feverishly, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Castiel this is ... this has been…"
"Don't you say it."
"Okay. More than fun. It's been…" An adequate word failed to come to mind. "I can't throw my life away over …"
"Some fag."
"That's not…"
Without any warning, Castiel grabbed the steering wheel and veered the car into the shoulder. Sam slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched over asphalt and rumbled on the gravel. Sam managed to straighten up the car as the front bumper scraped loudly against the guardrail.
"Jesus Christ!"
Castiel drew in a loud breath through his nostrils and folded his arms over his chest. "Do you think your coach or the press would be more interested in our photo shoot?"
Sam stared, terror making him incapable of speech or movement, and reducing his breath to tiny sips of air.
"You leave me, I will fucking finish you," Castiel spoke the words softly, like sweet nothings to a lover.
With those few whispered words, he made it all so simple. There was nothing for Sam to decide. Nothing to change. Nothing to fear, even. As long as he didn't piss Castiel off, everything would be fine.
The apartment was dark. Sam entered cautiously. "Babe?"
He was home three hours later than he'd predicted and already had a good idea of what Ruby's reaction to that would be. His jaw dropped at the candles flickering in the dimmed dining room. Three red roses stood in a slender vase between their best flatware and a lovely salad. Ruby ushered Sam to his chair, where once seated, she kissed his cheek.
"What's up?" Sam tried to keep the suspicion from his voice as he filed through the Rolodex of occasions in his mental calendar and came up blank.
Ruby poured water from the carafe into his glass. "You don't want to do the therapy, we don't have to."
"It's not that ... I don't think we need it. I think we're fine. You're beautiful. I love you." When she sat down the bottle, he took her tiny hands between his. "Therapy is not going to make me love you any more than I do. Nothing can do that. I love you... so much. You are... you don't even know."
"What if…" Her careful whisper startled him. Ruby was usually such a confident, strong woman. In that moment, she quaked. "What if I had your baby?"
Sam froze and released her hands. "We said we were gonna wait."
"Yeah." Somehow, she had landed on the floor before his chair.
Sam pinned his knees together and hoped to God she wouldn't try to initiate anything. There was no way he would be able to perform. Even if Castiel hadn't already drained him dry, the situation was the polar opposite of hot.
"... Until we got settled," he continued.
"I know."
"...And see." Sam tried to recall the exact words they had used when they'd talked about this.
"I know, Sam, but…" She wiped an errant lock out of his face.
"Are you?"
She nodded, trying for a smile and failing. Sam wiped a hand over his mouth and sat back in his chair.
"We don't have to now," Ruby said. "We can wait, like we said. I just... figured since it happened, maybe this was the right time."
"It's not," Sam replied, sounding harsher than he'd intended.
There wasn't a kind way to do this. Sam knew his wife well enough to recognize that she was forcing herself to nod in agreement. He could practically see the eggshells she'd been walking on. Ruby was trying everything in her arsenal to trying to draw him in. Sam didn't have the words or the heart to tell her what a waste her efforts would always be.
Now, this. He knew how much Ruby wanted children. She was four years his senior, and still nowhere near her biological cutoff. And she was still in school. The timing wasn't ideal for her either. The bigger issue for Ruby would always be the abortion she'd already had before they met. It was something she had confessed to Sam on their third date, in a fit of tears and tissues. She had already said that she would regret that decision for the rest of her life.
But that's why she was on the pill. They hardly had sex at all - once every few weeks. There was no point asking how this had happened. Sam had reproductive biology in middle school. He could only suppose that behind the science, there was a curse. Ruby was being punished for his sins, which seemed especially cruel, even for the mercurial God he learned about in Sunday school.
After everything Ruby had done for Sam, he was going to take this from her. It made him feel like a monster, but he didn't have a choice.
Maybe later. He had always told himself that he'd do it. Have a family, for Ruby, although he never really wanted a kid. As great as Sam's smile looked in print, he knew himself to be too much of a fuck up to pass his genes on to someone else. As highly as everyone seemed to think of him, he'd been a liar for as long as he could remember. Now, he was also a cruel and selfish cheat. When Sam Winchester looked in the mirror, he saw an all around bastard. How was someone like that supposed to raise a kid?
Sam figured if he mostly stayed out of the way, with Ruby it could be a good thing. Someday. Later. "Not now."
Ruby nodded and started to clear the table. He stepped behind her, took the plate from her hands, and buried his nose in her hair. She still used the same green apple and honeysuckle shampoo as when they had met.
He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her ear and vowed, "When the time is right, we'll have a whole team of them."
She clutched his arms tighter around her and let out an ugly sob/snort that made them both laugh.
The next throw was even more off target. Sam couldn't help but snicker at the stunned look on the receiver's face as the guy watched the ball sail past him, yards out of reach. He could have dived for it, but apparently, the poorness of the toss was too much of a shock.
The coach tooted his whistle and waved them both over. Sam jogged slowly; the air and his brain matter were of a thicker consistency than usual.
"What's going on? You're not even under any pressure, kid." The coach scratched his gray hair. "Why are you throwing off your back foot?"
Sam shrugged, willing himself to keep his mouth shut. There was no telling what he might say with his head full of oatmeal creme pies.
"Is something going on at home?"
Sam shook his head.
"Well, what the hell was that?"
Sam looked back over his shoulder and broke into a fit of giggles. "I don't know."
The look of awe on his coach's face made the whole thing even more hilarious. Sam doubled over, gripping his stomach, unable to stop himself. He covered his mouth with both hands to keep in the hysterics. He shook his head and apologized, but he couldn't stop laughing.
Some of the guys were watching. A lot of the guys. All of the guys. Sam wasn't sure. People's faces were blurring. The yard lines were already blurred.
The coach leaned close and whispered, "Sam, are you drunk?"
"No." The word was shattered by fresh chuckles.
Sam had never been drunk in his life. While he'd always been sensitive to certain foods, his body reacted to sugar the way he imagined most people react to tequila. Booze wouldn't kill him on the spot.
He opened his mouth wide for the coach to get a whiff, knowing all the man would smell was cookie and gooey stuff.
"What the hell, Sam?" The coach shook his head. "Just what the hell?"
Sam fought his snicker and followed the assistant coach to have his blood tested.
"You know what I'm going to do to you when we get to my place?"
Sam shook his head, transfixed by Castiel's eyes, a darker, almost mystical shade of blue under the setting sun.
Cas bit the corner of his lip and let their knuckles brush together. It was hardly any contact at all. That faint touch was inexplicably hotter than if Castiel had outright groped him. Sam had never been hypnotized, but he imagined it must feel something like this.
"Want me to tell you or do you want it to be a surprise?"
That tiny gesture, coupled with the growl of Castiel's voice, sent a heat wave through Sam's body like an electric shock. He licked his lips and adjusted his stance to make space for his growing cock.
He was smiling, thinking about what Castiel was going to do to him when someone shouted, "Go die, faggots."
The words hadn't even registered in Sam's mind before Cas lurched forward against his chest. Glass crashed on the pavement. Castiel would have fallen to his knees if Sam hadn't caught him. He touched the back of his head, fingers coming away covered in blood.
"What the hell?" Breathing fast, Sam struggled to get his bearings, looking in the direction of their attackers, now long gone.
A beer bottle lay shattered on the sidewalk around their feet. He peered directly into Castiel's eyes. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Fuckers."
"We should call the police."
Cas scoffed. "Probably a cop's kid, Sam."
Sam took two steps up the street, as if he was going to take off after the assholes who did it. "Seriously. They can't just get away with this. I think I could identify at least one of them."
"Sam." Castiel rolled his eyes. "Maybe you can call the cops, because you… blend. But when you're a girl like me, if you're laying in a ditch, half dead, you don't call the cops. Cops don't give a shit about us. We might as well be black boys."
"Cas, that's not…"
"I've been a fag longer than you've been alive. Trust me on this one."
Strictly speaking, it was an exaggeration, but Cas was 30 and had been out since he was twelve. Sam had to assume he knew what he was talking about, even it was only based on his experience. "Well, you need to go the hospital.'
"They're just as bad," Castiel said. "I'm going to go home, put some ice on my boo boo, take an Advil and let you rub my feet."
Sam shook his head and paced the corner with his hands on his hips.
Castiel calmed him with a hand on his chest. "Look at it this way. Now, you've been initiated. You aren't really a faggot until you've been called one."
Ruby stood before where Sam sat on the sofa. Her dark hair hung over her pale shoulders. She nudged his knees open with her own and slipped to the floor between them.
He tucked a finger under the silk strap of her burgundy teddy. "That's really pretty, honey. Is it new?"
She nodded and turned her huge brown eyes up to him like she was searching out constellations. Sam kissed her forehead, gave her shoulders a small squeeze and said, "They're killing us out there, sweetie. I just can't tonight."
Sam kept his face buried in the crook of his arm, while Castiel sat on his thighs, slowly fucking him with a small black dildo.
"So does this mean, no more catch?" Cas asked. "Don't get me wrong; I like seeing more of you. I'm just wondering…"
Sam shook his head and answered into the mattress.
"What?"
Sam pushed up just enough to repeat, "Probation."
"Which means?"
Sam shrugged and lowered his face again.
"Do you miss it?"
"I don't remember a time when didn't play football."
"Hm." Castiel held Sam's cheek aside and rammed his rubber dick into him like it was punishment. "Did you tell the sardine?"
Sam refused to acknowledge Castiel's nickname for Ruby. He arched his back to change the angle and said, "God, yeah. Right there."
6:18 PM was his usual time to be home from practice, and Sam was punctual for a change. Ruby was at her desk, working on her dissertation. He stepped into her office and kissed the crown of her head. She covered his hand on her shoulder with her own.
"Turning in."
Ten minutes later, she crawled into bed behind him. Sam lay stock-still as her arm slipped around his hip, hand fumbling with his crotch. He closed his eyes and let her play with him until it made him want to cry. Finally, he took her wrist in his hand and murmured, "Tired, babe."
She pressed her lips to his shoulder, her body shuddering slightly against him. There might have been a sob, but Sam didn't turn around to confirm. Her sorrow wasn't something he could face or fix.
Castiel stood at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips. He flicked a Skittles wrapper away from Sam's ankles and moved around to the bedside. "Here."
Sam groaned, allowing Castiel to help him sit up, despite his swimming head.
"You yack on my bed, I will murder you, Sam."
Sam swooned, too groggy to resist the cool glass at his lips. He swallowed Castiel's water and his bitter pills. Gradually, the swirling room paused just long enough to fade to black.
Sam awoke with a vicious headache and a furious pain in his right arm. It was the kind of pain that made you wonder if you were dying and wish that you could.
"Fuck!" He gawked at the white bandage around his wrist, breathing fast and fighting a losing battle against his tears.
Sam couldn't remember having been injured. He hadn't been to training in over a week and wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious.
He squeezed his eyes shut, balled his left hand into a fist and rolled his head to the side. He whimpered, the sound somehow worsening the agony. When he opened his eyes again, he found a glass of water and two tablets on the bedside table along with a note that read: 'Eat me, Drink me.'
"Cas?" he tried to call out, but his voice was shot, throat aching and parched.
Curiosity finally overtook him, and he tried to peel the gauze from around his arm, but found himself unable to bear the pain. Panting, he dropped his head back to the pillow.
Ruby stood with both hands clasped over her mouth as the doctor examined the wound. That had been her default position in the last two hours since they had arrived at the hospital.
Cas was no surgeon. He had just hacked right through skin and muscle and tendon, straight down to the bone.
"And you don't know what he used?" The surgeon repeated the question for what felt like the fiftieth time.
What different did it make what he had used? A coat hanger, a butter knife? The damage was done. It was this chick's job to fix it.
"I'm not sure." Sam maintained a semblance of composure. "I told you, I was unconscious."
The only detail Sam was sure about, he was unwilling to confess. Why Castiel had sliced the fuck out of his wrist, Sam wasn't even sure himself. He had done everything Castiel had wanted. He was at Cas' apartment more than he was in his own home.
When the doctor excused herself, Ruby took Sam's good hand in both of her own. She settled in the chair beside his bed. "Your mother is on her way."
"Why?" Sam sighed, lowering his head to keep from having to see Ruby's apparently permanent expression of grief and pity.
"I had to call her. How could I not call her, Sam?"
"The world doesn't end because someone gets mugged."
She didn't respond to that. Sam had filed a police report stating that he had been jumped, knocked out and cut. The cops took it all down without much comment. There was also a visit from the frizzy-haired hospital social worker who had offered to return at any time, if Sam wanted to talk. He had narrowly resisted the urge to tell her to go fuck herself. He knew how it looked and couldn't blame everyone for making their false assumptions.
As far as Sam was concerned, the story added up, all the way down to his missing wallet, which was still at Castiel's. It was as good as gone, because Sam was sure as hell never going back there.
Ruby's thumb grated back and forth across his left hand. "Baby, this is not … we're fine. You're fine. We're going to get through this. Whatever you need."
"Ruby, I didn't do this to myself." That was as much truth as Sam could afford and he clung to it like it was his last dollar.
He repeated it to his mother the following afternoon while she wept into her cup of tea. "You were always so sensitive, Sam. You don't know how I worried for you in middle school. You used to sit there, so quiet and tell me you were thinking. 'Just thinking, mom.'" She covered her trembling mouth with a quivering hand. "Oh, baby. Too much pressure. I told your father…"
"Mom. I didn't do this to myself," Sam said, although he was beginning to understand how even that statement was not entirely true.
His choices had created this situation. It was indirect, but he had, in fact, made the bed he was lying in.
Although Castiel clearly hadn't been trying to kill him, Sam strongly considered finishing the job himself. This was far from the first time he'd thought of taking a permanent way out. Just the closest he'd ever come to doing it. He wasn't a wrist slitting type, though. The methods he favored were far less fallible.
In fact, when Sam met Ruby, he had been on the verge of trying one of those methods. She had become a new North Star for him back then. And she had saved his life after the Castiel incident, both times in ways she'd never know. With her east coast liberal values, she had insisted there be no guns in their home. In the bleak, midnight moments when he most longed for a way out, Sam lacked the mental capacity to track down a weapon.
He had a suspicion that Castiel could be helpful in that regard, but if there was one thing Sam never intended to do, as long (or as briefly) as he continued to live, it was talk to Castiel Novak.
Sam's agent sent a card. His head coach and a few teammates even came by the house. The man had checked his usual gruff manner at the door and made a remarkably gracious speech about how once a player is a member of the Steelers family, he's a member for life. Sam's mother cried again.
It wasn't lost on Sam that Coach Marlowe and the delegation from the squad were all dressed in black suits, with their arms clasped in front of them, heads solemnly bowed as if it were a funeral. He was fairly confident that it was the last time he'd see any of them.
Ruby had given a confused frown when the coach said for the third time how sorry he was if he hadn't made it clear that the probation was temporary. She didn't question Sam about it. She stood, shook all of their hands, thanked them for coming and saw them to the door.
While his mother washed the dishes from tea, Ruby settled beside him on the sofa.
"Don't you …" Sam murmured. "You should probably get some work done, right?"
She rolled her lips into her mouth and took a deep breath like it required intense mental preparation to speak to him. "You need some time…"
Sam nodded.
"Of course." Ruby stood, still holding his hand. "Call me. For anything."
"Yeah. I will." He tried to free his fingers.
She held them firmly. "I love you."
"I know. Me, too."
And still, she didn't leave. She nudged his leg with her knee, making it rock slightly against the other. "I love you. No matter what."
Sam nodded.
Ruby finally released his hand, but it was only so that she could rest both of hers on his shoulders and lean down into his face. "This is not a defeat. It's a turning point."
Sam clenched his jaw to keep back the scream welling up in the back of his throat - 'Run! Go! Get away from me! You have no idea what a fucked up mess I am!'
Sam had learned how to work his dimples before he was two years old. He flashed them for Ruby's benefit, nodded again, and sighed when she finally left him the hell alone.
He fell asleep on the sofa. In his dream, he had stolen something in an Arabian market. Something small and insignificant that had belonged to him in the first place. Still, two linebackers from his team held him still while his dad hacked off his hand with a machete.
Sam gasped awake. His mother was already at his side before he could sit up all the way. She wiped a palm over his forehead. "No fever. You want to try just half of this?"
The pain medicine he had taken in the hospital made him hallucinate so badly, he'd had to be fully sedated. Sam winced at his ravaged hand. Movement hurt. Stillness hurt. Besides not wanting to startle Ruby or his mother with any more out of control behavior, this pain was Justice. He deserved to suffer much worse. He shook his head and gripped the leg of his sweat pants with his left hand. "No, I'm fine."
When the doorbell rang, his mother called back to Ruby that she'd answer. Sam was so busy staring at his bandage, wallowing in the keen, pulsing ache that he didn't consciously register any of it until his mother was leading another guest into the living room.
"Honey, your friend is here to see you."
Sam's breath caught in his throat. His heart halted for a long moment before thrashing against his chest. Castiel entered, carrying a rectangular Tupperware. He whispered as if someone was sleeping, "Your mother is lovely."
"Shall I take that." Sam's mother reached for the dish.
"No," Castiel said. "No. It's for Ruby."
"Oh. That's nice. Should I go get her?"
Sam nodded, still trying to breathe normally. The moment his mother was gone from the room, Castiel leaned forward and hissed, "You blocked my calls?"
"You cut me."
"You're welcome."
Sam could only gape at the madman in front of him.
"You were too much of a coward to leave that game, just like you're too much of a coward to leave your wife."
Sam scoffed, speechless. The waves of heat that rolled over him had nothing to do with arousal or attraction. He vacillated so intensely between anger and terror that he could hardly see straight.
"You've been pretending so long about everything else that your family doesn't even know you don't want to play football. How can Ruby possibly love you, Sam? She doesn't even …"
"Castiel?"
Castiel stood upright and opened an arm as if to comfort her. "Hello, darling. I heard what happened."
"How? I mean… Tell me it's not in the media. Sam's agent promised us…"
"No, no, darling. I have my sources. You know I always know everything." He handed her the platter.
"You know people at the hospital?" Ruby guessed, clearly needing an explanation.
Castiel chuckled. "Sure, honey. I didn't come to stay. Just to see how the brute was doing and tell him we've missed him in class."
"I've told him that. And this…" She looked at the dish in her hands. "This is really too thoughtful of you."
Castiel waved off her gratitude. "It's an old family recipe. Sardine souffle. Hope you enjoy it, Sam."
"Well, that was sweet of him to drop by." Ruby sat the Tupperware on the coffee table while Sam's mother saw Castiel to the door. "Should we, maybe, have some for lunch?"
Sam eyed the dish, sure that something terrible would happen if Ruby opened the lid: an explosion, snakes, something. As it turned out, it just stank to high heaven. As far as Sam could tell, the recipe for sardine souffle was open the can and dump the fish into the tray. Serve with irony.
"I don't think he's much of a cook." Ruby turned up her nose. "You feeling brave?"
Sam turned away. "Not hungry."
Miraculously, she didn't argue but returned to work on her paper. Sam's mother hovered while trying to appear not to hover. He attempted a single round of the PT exercises he was assigned and still found it impossible to touch the tip of his thumb to his pinky without a searing pain that made him shout out loud.
Eventually, Mary came to redress the wound. Sam frowned at the soggy skin around the taut blue stitches. He bit his lip as she swabbed away a tiny gob of pus. "We'll have to go back in tomorrow if that keeps up."
Her touch, the iodine, air: everything burned like a brand. Sam bit back a whimper and tried for a joke. "Won't be going to the Super Bowl with this monstrosity?"
"Sam." His mother stopped what she was doing. "Look at me."
He obliged, knowing he had practically begged for sympathy he didn't deserve.
"That is not important."
"Dad knows…" Sam couldn't even begin to imagine his dad's reaction. Just the thought of facing the man made him want to end himself again.
"Your father and Jo have school." Sam's mother continued her torturous, tender care. "They'll be here this weekend."
After breakfast the following morning, Mary ironed a button-down shirt and was helping Sam shrug into it. Ruby had been back at her desk, trying to get in an hour of writing before they made the trek to the doctor to be sure Sam's wound wasn't becoming infected.
"Mary." Ruby stepped into the room, studying her cell phone. "Could I … Can Sam and I have a moment, please?"
"Of course." Sam's mom slipped the shirt onto his shoulders and whisked away.
Ruby took a deep breath and sat on the corner of the bed, worrying her bottom lip.
"What is it?" Sam asked, although he already knew.
Even before she moved, before she spoke another word, he knew that this era of his life was over. He could see it on her face, feel it crackling in the air, making the hair on his neck and arms stand on end.
She handed him the cell phone. All he could do was blink down at the photograph. It looked professional. That really was some camera Castiel had.
Ruby's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. She shook her head, staring at her tiny hands folded on her knees. Sam couldn't take his eyes away from the slow, comforting caress of her left thumb over the other.
"Is this…" Ruby stared at the wall. "A phase?"
Here she was again, offering Sam an out. He could easily say that he was curious. It was experimentation.
Then Sam thought about his first crush from second grade. Daniel Ackerman had Superman glasses and hair almost as dark as Castiel's. "A fourteen-year phase."
Her nostrils flared, face on the verge of crumbling, but she nodded, resolute, impossibly steady behind the downpour. Sam knew Ruby's face. Nowhere in the stress lines and grief was there any indication of surprise.
"Is this why … everything?"
Sam wasn't sure what she meant by 'everything.' But it was why enough things that he nodded to keep from having to speak again.
She sat quietly for so long that Sam was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He stood silently as a criminal awaiting sentencing.
She finally peered up at him with bloodshot eyes and asked, "Do you love me?"
"Yes."
Ruby nodded. "It's our marriage. We can define it how we want."
When it finally dawned on Sam what Ruby was saying, what she was offering, he realized just how wrong Castiel had been about one vital thing. Ruby loved him, unconditionally, and completely - the way anyone on earth would die to be loved.
Sam was the one who had cruelly sucked the life out of her for the last three years, like some kind of emotional vampire. He was the one who might not even be capable of real love. He had no idea.
Now that his NFL contract carried about the same value as the Charmin under the sink, Sam was free to find out about real love and anything else he wanted to know. For the first time in his life, he was free to be himself. He just had no idea who he was.
His father didn't come that weekend or the following one, or the next. For more than a month, Sam wasted away in his tiny studio apartment, unshaven, unbathed, with the curtains drawn over his mess. He ordered in food and anything else he needed, unable to find his way out of the darkness.
Most days, he spent hours at a time, cradling his shotgun on his lap, stroking over the barrel, the trigger, the stock. From time to time, he'd open his mouth and place the muzzle against his soft pallet, clamping his teeth down and closing his lips around the steel. He preferred the front sight under the chin but had read statistics that it was far less fail-proof.
Castiel never explained how he found him. It didn't really matter. He was there, at Sam's door, holding Sam's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You look like Abraham Lincoln with this thing. You know that, don't you?"
Sam couldn't speak, let alone laugh.
"I'll take care of you, Sammy." Castiel scratched Sam's beard and blessed him with a sweet smile. "Don't I always take care of you?"
