#hunter sam

Day 3 - Hunter Sam

One facet of Hunter Sam that I love encompasses his gentleness, empathy, selflessness, an earnest desire to help and the genuine satisfaction he feels when the other person (monster, victim or a combination of both) changes their mind and accepts Sam's help.

Dean had just fallen asleep after tossing and turning for a while, when Cas tiptoed into his room. Cas looked at the sleeping man for a second before carefully peeling back the covers and slipping into bed with him. He had just woken up from another nightmare about The Empty and couldn’t get back to sleep, so he crept down the hall to Dean’s bedroom. Now here he was snuggling into Dean’s bed.

Dean started to wake up, “whas happnin,” he said sleepily.

Cas blushed. “I had a nightmare… I couldn’t get back to sleep… If you mind I’ll leave,” and he started to roll over to get out of the bed but was stopped by the hand that grabbed his elbow.

“S’okay, Cas.”

Dean pulled the angel back down into bed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Cas thought he might melt, but then Dean threw his arm around his waist and immediately started snoring again and Cas knew that this was where he belonged.

The next morning Sam woke up and stumbled to the kitchen. He heard muffled conversation inside, and when he walked in he had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing it correctly. Cas was standing over the sink and Dean’s arms were wrapped around his waist with his chin settled comfortably into the crook of his neck. Sam almost said something, but then he saw how happy they both were so he just smiled and backed out of the room to go and find Eileen.

Dean was so happy. When Cas came into his room last night, he’d thought it was a dream, but when he woke up that morning with his arms still wrapped around the angel he knew it wasn’t. He had just lay there and listened to Cas’s breathing. It comforted him. He knew angels didn’t need to breathe, but Cas did. Dean figured that after he had become human he just never dropped the habit. Whatever the reason was, it was comforting to Dean. He didn’t want to move ever again, but Cas eventually woke up and Dean’s stomach rumbled. It was Cas who insisted on making Dean breakfast. He’d learned how to make eggs and toast while he was human and wanted to do something for Dean, and Dean was happy to let him. Now, standing this close to the angel and watching him wash the dishes after a (admittedly mediocre) serving of scrambled eggs for the both of them, Dean never wanted this moment to never end. Cas was just happy to do anything for Dean, after all Dean had done for him.

Later that day, Sam called everyone into the library.

“Guys,” Sam said, showing everyone his laptop. “I just found this article about some strange deaths in town. Do we wanna check it out?”

All four of them agreed, donned their FBI outfits, and checked it out. It seemed like a pretty straightforward case, but they weren’t sure what the monster was, so they headed back to the bunker to do some research.

Cas and Dean sat next to each other, of course. They were each looking at separate books, but Dean’s hand was resting on Cas’s knee. At one point Dean said he was thirsty and Cas got up to get him a drink, and when he came back he sat down on Dean’s lap. Dean didn’t know what to say, his brother and Eileen were sitting right there, but he loved the weight on his lap and Cas was so warm, so he just hugged Cas to him and didn’t say anything.

Sam looked up with the words “so get this” on his tongue but he stopped at the sight of his brother and Cas. Dean’s arm was wrapped around Cas’s waist and his head was leaning on his shoulder as he read something off of his computer. Cas had one hand resting on top of Dean’s on the table and the other was holding open an old book. Both Cas and Dean were smiling softly while reading. Sam sat back for a second and smiled at his brother and the angel before glancing over at Eileen, who was also watching the pair.

Sam made eye contact with Eileen and silently signed “I love you.”

Eileen smiled widely and signed back “I love you too. Your brother seems cozy, doesn’t he?”

Sam laughed quietly and nodded. He signed, “maybe we should leave them alone?”

-

apparently there's a word limit? Idk I'll put the 2nd half in a reblog...

Title: Mementos&Memories Artist: @pantydean Author: NadiaHart @hartlessfiction Rating: Explicit Pairings: Dean/Cas, Destiel Wordcount: 17,182 Read on A03

Summary:There is a distance between memory and reality and it doesn’t always look as you’d expect it to. Sometimes it’s a tangible thing, a long stretch of deserted back roads. Pavement, patched and faded from years of weather and wear. Sometimes, it doesn’t have a look at all, but a sound. The whirr and buzz of an old Polaroid camera printing a photo.

There is a distance between then and now. Sometimes the distance is small, just the space of an exhale. Sometimes it’s fathomless, like the fall from heaven to earth.

Castiel is a man making his way across the chasm between divinity and humanity. A distance between who he was, and who he is now. Along the way he learns about himself, the family he finds, the memories he makes, and all of the moments he manages to capture in-between.

Link to art masterpost

“Nooooope,” Sam stiffens and turns on a dime, heading back to the Impala.  

“Sam, what the hell?” Dean sighs, tossing his duffel bag back into the trunk with more force than is probably necessary. “I just want a fucking shower, man!”

To be fair, Dean is covered in some sort of slowly dripping green goop, his shirt plastered to his chest and the flannel he’s wearing is more or less in ribbons down his back. He’s pulled off the highway into the first town they found, then into the first parking lot of the first motel he saw from the road. It’s a severely run down little dive called The BigTop. Castiel is halfway out of the back seat when his eyes snap to what has caused Sam’s sudden one-eighty and Dean’s outburst.

Behind the dingy reception desk, standing under a flickering yellowed bulb is a seven and a half foot tall statue of a clown. It’s in disrepair. Its already creepy face–the paint half chipped off like at some point someone had tried to move it and instead dropped it on its head, cracking the veneer–is mangled and sinister looking, to say the least. The flickering light casts slithering shadows across its hollow eyes and eerily parted half curled mouth, make it seem like it's snarling. Like it’s peering directly into your soul and just waiting to suck it right out of your mouth.

Castiel shivers at the sight of it, and the longer he stares at the statue, the more uneasy he feels. He can understand Sam’s hesitancy. The half balding man hunched behind the reception desk, on the other hand, is more interested in the battered paperback in his hands than realizing the imminent threat of that statue looming over his shoulder obviously poses, as Sam Winchester clearly does.

The passenger side door slams closed as Sam slides resolutely back into his spot. Sam’s made his decision; they won't be staying here tonight. Castiel glances around at the bleak motel with its faded circus theme and spots at least two more equally forlorn statues scattered around the property.  He’s more than pleased to slip back inside the Impala, grimacing as Dean catches his eye and silently implores him to take his side. When Castiel shrugs, Dean slams the trunk and stomps around the Impala, grumbling as he slips back behind the wheel.

“This shit fucking itches.” He complains as he throws the car into reverse. Sam’s shoulders visibly relax as they back out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. “If I get a rash…” Dean grumbles as Sam flicks on the radio. Castiel watches the interaction fondly, fatigue makes him weary, his head tipping to lean against the window.

The streetlights pass wetly over the Impala as Dean drives through the night, the sound of his voice singing along to the radio and the rumble of the car pulling at Castiel’s mind until he’s drifting. Now that Castiel’s fallen and the last remaining vestiges of his grace are fading to nothing, sleep is something he is learning to treasure.

There are lots of things, in fact, that he’s learning to treasure. Hot coffee in the morning, peanut butter and jelly on white bread before bed, buttered rye toast and runny eggs, cheeseburgers with bacon, pie––and cake, but he keeps that to himself. Sheets fresh out of the dryer, the smell of old books... orgasms. He hums a sigh rolling his forehead against the cold glass of the back window. He’s really learning to treasure orgasms. The heat, the rush, the sudden euphoric rise, and crash. He especially enjoys them in a nice hot shower or tucked between the sheets of his bed in the bunker, right before he falls asleep at night. There’s nothing like that loose-limbed feeling to pull him into a dreamless slumber. Dreamless nights are few and far in between, now that the nightmares of his past chase him whenever his mind starts to wander.

Jacob couldn't help one more glance at the table before he headed out the door, watching Sam set back down to research. It grated against him to leave someone so small and vulnerable alone in the room. A distant memory returned to him, of the first time he'd ever contacted Sam and Dean over the phone. Dean's proud, stubborn voice insisting that Sam was a hunter in his own right.

the 2nd commission for @mrveils !! more of their bloodborne oc sam (whomst i cherish dearly) going a bit Beasty..