fic: and i'll be home in a little while
Title: and i'll be home in a little while
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Balthazar/Castiel
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Started way back when for the nap!fic comment meme, and now has finally been finished. Takes place before those last couple of eps of S6. Title taken from Mumford & Sons' "Home". Not beta'd.
Castiel's vessel is tight, thrumming, and not for the first time he thinks that maybe he should accept the situation for what it is. He is taut; tired and wrung out, and he can't escape it. Sleep is beyond him at the moment, pushed to the side as far as he can get it away. Though he knows that if he allowed himself to, he would fall asleep in an instant.
Castiel had always thought the phrase "they were asleep before their head hit the pillow" was an exaggeration, but several weeks ago he had discovered the truth in it. It had been a wonderous sleep, deep and refreshing, and he had began to truly appreciate what a gift it was. Until the covers had wrapped tight around him and he couldn't breath, his wings pinioned tight against the mattress. When Castiel had opened his eyes finally, he had expected to see Zachariah and Uriel above him, pleased grins as they tore his Grace from him.
It hadn't happened like that, his Fall, and he knows that. But his body and subconscious still aren't convinced, and sleep is now banished from his experiences, along with peanut butter and brooms.
He's taken refuge in an out of the way motel. It's the off-season, the mountains lacking both greenery and snow, and there's fewer people around for him to avoid. While he's still able to mask his presence, he dislikes having to expend what little power he has left to do so.
In hindsight, Castiel's thankful that he's sitting on the edge of the bed when Balthazar shows up, the sudden movement causing him to jerk back, his fingers trembling.
"You shouldn't be here."
"What? You mean I shouldn't be able to find you, is that it?" Balthazar smirks at Castiel before moving to the kitchen, his fingers wriggling in anticapation.
"Among other things, yes. I need to be alone for the time being." Castiel rolls his shoulders back, cracking the bones and relieving some pressure. He pushes the body a bit further, until muscles are tightening too much and he has to stop. He's more aware now though, more awake, even though he knows the sensation will only last for a little while.
"You really need to get laid." Balthazar's voice startles him back to the presence, and Castiel frowns at him. "Not because of the stick up your ass, but there are other things it can help with. Sleep, for instance."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit." Balthazar reaches for a mug as he busies himself at the counter. "I can see the bags under your eyes from here. I can fix them, if you'd like."
Castiel shakes his head, not even sure what Balthazar is talking about. "I just need to be alone."
Baltazar walks towards him, his hands holding on to one of the motel mugs. "I know what you need, brother. You just have to be smart enough to accept it."
When Balthazar reaches him, he offers Castiel the mug. It's warm and full of white liquid, and Castiel eyes it warily.
"It's a common cure for insomnia. One of those old wives tales that manages to actually help out the majority of the time." Balthazar sits next to Castiel on the bed, toeing off his shoes. "Magic hasn't done a damn thing for you, has it? So let's give mankind a shot at it."
Castiel gives it one last lingering look before swallowing down the liquid. It's warm, several shades from hot, and there's a sweetness at the end that makes him tip the cup up even higher, searching for more. He can hear Balthazar chuckle from off to the side, a pleased sound that adds to the warmth in his stomach.
"Better?"
Castiel nods as he places the mug on the bedside table. "And this will help me sleep?"
"It's step one. Step two is getting some of this off of you." Balthazar gestures towards Castiel's clothes. "Just the restricting pieces."
He stands back up, shrugging off his jacket onto the other bed. "It all depends on the type of nap you want," he says as he continues stripping down, fingers quick on his belt and fly. "Quick naps, you want to leave this all on. But for when you really need to catch up a fair chunk of sleep, you have to help yourself out."
All Castiel can do is watch as Balthazar loses pieces of clothing: jacket, pants and socks. Until all that's left are boxers and a tight t-shirt.
"Your turn, love."
Castiel blushes then, his fear of sleep overtaken by this newfound fear of overexposure and fear of failing. That somehow he will manage to screw up taking a nap.
Balthazar reaches down to grab Castiel's hand, pulling him up until they're almost touching. "Just stand still, okay?" He whispers, and all Castiel can do is nod.
When the trenchcoat is pushed off his shoulders, Castiel has to resist the urge to stretch his wings out as well, to see if they still are there as he knows them. Balthazar moves quickly, kneeling down to untie Castiel's shoes.
"Lift up," he whispers, and Castiel braces himself against Balthazar's shoulders as he steps out of his shoes. He holds on when Balthazar chases after his feet, fingers tugging off his socks as well, and Castiel has to resist the urge to giggle when the light touches get to be too much.
Once the shoes are off, the rest of his clothing follows quickly, his jacket and button-up shirt landing haphazardly on the other bed. And then Balthazar is suddenly right in front of him again; his breath warm against Castiel's cheek, his fingers busy on Castiel's pants.
"I'm going to pull you into bed after these come off," Balthazar whispers in his ear. "And things will be awkward and painful and good. And you're going to fall asleep, like you should have been these past weeks." When Castiel opens his mouth, Balthazar presses a finger against it. "And when the nightmares hit, I will be here."
Castiel nods, his faith desperate for something to believe in.
"Good then," Balthazar says, and pushes Castiel's pants off his hips.
Author: puchuupoet
Pairing: Balthazar/Castiel
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Started way back when for the nap!fic comment meme, and now has finally been finished. Takes place before those last couple of eps of S6. Title taken from Mumford & Sons' "Home". Not beta'd.
Castiel's vessel is tight, thrumming, and not for the first time he thinks that maybe he should accept the situation for what it is. He is taut; tired and wrung out, and he can't escape it. Sleep is beyond him at the moment, pushed to the side as far as he can get it away. Though he knows that if he allowed himself to, he would fall asleep in an instant.
Castiel had always thought the phrase "they were asleep before their head hit the pillow" was an exaggeration, but several weeks ago he had discovered the truth in it. It had been a wonderous sleep, deep and refreshing, and he had began to truly appreciate what a gift it was. Until the covers had wrapped tight around him and he couldn't breath, his wings pinioned tight against the mattress. When Castiel had opened his eyes finally, he had expected to see Zachariah and Uriel above him, pleased grins as they tore his Grace from him.
It hadn't happened like that, his Fall, and he knows that. But his body and subconscious still aren't convinced, and sleep is now banished from his experiences, along with peanut butter and brooms.
He's taken refuge in an out of the way motel. It's the off-season, the mountains lacking both greenery and snow, and there's fewer people around for him to avoid. While he's still able to mask his presence, he dislikes having to expend what little power he has left to do so.
In hindsight, Castiel's thankful that he's sitting on the edge of the bed when Balthazar shows up, the sudden movement causing him to jerk back, his fingers trembling.
"You shouldn't be here."
"What? You mean I shouldn't be able to find you, is that it?" Balthazar smirks at Castiel before moving to the kitchen, his fingers wriggling in anticapation.
"Among other things, yes. I need to be alone for the time being." Castiel rolls his shoulders back, cracking the bones and relieving some pressure. He pushes the body a bit further, until muscles are tightening too much and he has to stop. He's more aware now though, more awake, even though he knows the sensation will only last for a little while.
"You really need to get laid." Balthazar's voice startles him back to the presence, and Castiel frowns at him. "Not because of the stick up your ass, but there are other things it can help with. Sleep, for instance."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit." Balthazar reaches for a mug as he busies himself at the counter. "I can see the bags under your eyes from here. I can fix them, if you'd like."
Castiel shakes his head, not even sure what Balthazar is talking about. "I just need to be alone."
Baltazar walks towards him, his hands holding on to one of the motel mugs. "I know what you need, brother. You just have to be smart enough to accept it."
When Balthazar reaches him, he offers Castiel the mug. It's warm and full of white liquid, and Castiel eyes it warily.
"It's a common cure for insomnia. One of those old wives tales that manages to actually help out the majority of the time." Balthazar sits next to Castiel on the bed, toeing off his shoes. "Magic hasn't done a damn thing for you, has it? So let's give mankind a shot at it."
Castiel gives it one last lingering look before swallowing down the liquid. It's warm, several shades from hot, and there's a sweetness at the end that makes him tip the cup up even higher, searching for more. He can hear Balthazar chuckle from off to the side, a pleased sound that adds to the warmth in his stomach.
"Better?"
Castiel nods as he places the mug on the bedside table. "And this will help me sleep?"
"It's step one. Step two is getting some of this off of you." Balthazar gestures towards Castiel's clothes. "Just the restricting pieces."
He stands back up, shrugging off his jacket onto the other bed. "It all depends on the type of nap you want," he says as he continues stripping down, fingers quick on his belt and fly. "Quick naps, you want to leave this all on. But for when you really need to catch up a fair chunk of sleep, you have to help yourself out."
All Castiel can do is watch as Balthazar loses pieces of clothing: jacket, pants and socks. Until all that's left are boxers and a tight t-shirt.
"Your turn, love."
Castiel blushes then, his fear of sleep overtaken by this newfound fear of overexposure and fear of failing. That somehow he will manage to screw up taking a nap.
Balthazar reaches down to grab Castiel's hand, pulling him up until they're almost touching. "Just stand still, okay?" He whispers, and all Castiel can do is nod.
When the trenchcoat is pushed off his shoulders, Castiel has to resist the urge to stretch his wings out as well, to see if they still are there as he knows them. Balthazar moves quickly, kneeling down to untie Castiel's shoes.
"Lift up," he whispers, and Castiel braces himself against Balthazar's shoulders as he steps out of his shoes. He holds on when Balthazar chases after his feet, fingers tugging off his socks as well, and Castiel has to resist the urge to giggle when the light touches get to be too much.
Once the shoes are off, the rest of his clothing follows quickly, his jacket and button-up shirt landing haphazardly on the other bed. And then Balthazar is suddenly right in front of him again; his breath warm against Castiel's cheek, his fingers busy on Castiel's pants.
"I'm going to pull you into bed after these come off," Balthazar whispers in his ear. "And things will be awkward and painful and good. And you're going to fall asleep, like you should have been these past weeks." When Castiel opens his mouth, Balthazar presses a finger against it. "And when the nightmares hit, I will be here."
Castiel nods, his faith desperate for something to believe in.
"Good then," Balthazar says, and pushes Castiel's pants off his hips.