mildly improper use of angel grace, for self indulgent sastiel related purposes.
they had a bad day, a really fucking bad day. dean ditched them as soon as they made it to the motel room, and ran off to the nearest bar he could find, which left sam and cas alone together. they hadn't known each other for too long, but tensions were high and cas didn't really understand the feeling, all he knew was that he didn't like it. so he asked sam if he would like to know what angel grace feels like, and of course the boy said yes -- he'd do anything to make himself holy, anything to make him clean.
cas tells sam to sit in front of him on the bed, and the hunter obliged, shuffling over and crossing his legs comfortably. he waits for something to happen, and cas slowly reaches out one hand, pressing two fingers to sam's temple gently. it was sort of warm, sam thought as he let himself sink into the feeling, he was growing much more comfortable and feeling almost giddy? he wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that it felt good. castiel did the same to himself, holding two fingers to his own head (for theatrical purposes more than anything else), then allowing himself to relax into his own grace.
after a while, sam looked up at the angel with this boyish grin and asked if they could do it again, if he could have more this time. castiel had softened by this point, he was no longer the stoic soldier of the lord. no, now he was just cas -- sam's cas. he said yes.
by the time dean stumbled through the door, the two men were cuddled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling and giggling at every word that came from the other's mouth. the older winchester accused them of being stoned, he had no clue that his brother was high on heaven itself.
