Chapter Text
Though Kevin had been wanting to try 4th, Charlie claimed it was too watered down and Sam agreed, adding that it was overpowered at the same time as short on roleplay. Charlie, of course, had played 1st through 5th, and, though she had been a THAC0 purist for a long time, she had determined that 3rd was the best for teaching new players, since the d20 system was so easy to learn and versatile.
Dean just rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s get on with your nerd-ass game,” and Cas frowned at him. Charlie explained to Dean how to create a character, and Kevin walked Castiel through the same, while Sam got the beer and pizza and Code Red Mountain Dew. His character was already prepared. He had spent hours on it last night, which was part of why he really didn’t want to switch to 4e now that he had the perfect character in 3e. He was a mage, of course.
Castiel debated for a while, and finally chose a paladin. He asked quietly if he could be a paladin of the real Lord, or if he needed to choose among the false ones in the book. Kevin glanced at Charlie. “Um. Under the circumstances?”
Sam laughed and leaned over to point at the book. “Look, Cas. It’s just another name for the Divine, right? I don’t think choosing Pelor as your patron god in a game of Dungeons and Dragons is going to make you an idolater.”
Castiel began to smile. “Pelor reminds me a great deal of my Father. The God of the sun and all that is light, a creator, a healer. His followers are neutral, but good, and are committed to defending those weaker, and to delivering mercy. His crusaders believe in equity for the meek with perseverance and strength. That appeals to me.”
“See? It’s like a tribute, right?”
“And Pelor’s favored weapon is a mace. It has been quite a while since I used one myself. That could be an amusing departure from reality.”
Sam smiled at him fondly while the others laughed. “Yeah, Cas. That’s the point, right? Taking a break from reality?”
Castiel seemed pleased. “Then I’m doing this right?” he whispered hopefully.
Sam found himself wanting to kiss the angel’s head, so he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Yeah, man. You’re doing it right.”
Charlie was reading over Dean’s character sheet and groaning. “You’re impossible!”
“What?” the man demanded. “I’m a fighter!”
“Yeah. You’re not a legend yet. You’re not going to start out with the most badass of weapons.” She smirked. “What do you think this is? Supernatural?”
Sam cackled. “Hey! We had to level up before we got the Colt or Ruby’s knife, or an angel blade!” he pointed out. “We started out this job with a bunch of homemade sawed-offs and some salt rounds!”
“We’ve got a grenade launcher in the trunk, dude.”
“And how many times have I gotten to play with that?” Sam sulked. “Exactly zero. The one time we actually used it, you and Dad said I was too little to handle it.”
Castiel was frowning again. “I’m still confused about spell range. If I am a paladin of a god, shouldn’t I be able to smite an entire room of undead in one round?”
Kevin sighed. “We’re playing with the one guy in the world who’s more powerful than the characters in the game.”
And so went the first night of the “Not Saving the World for a Whole” Weekend. Dean had insisted there were better ways to spend their time. But Sam had noticed that his brother had taken far more time than was strictly necessary choosing his character’s armor and feats. Dean could call him Dumbledork all he wanted, but he knew the older man was at least as much of a geek at heart.
Kevin was a rules nazi, but that had not surprised anyone, and after a few drinks, he was mellowed out. Charlie ran them through the first scene, where the characters met one another in a tavern and were forced to fight side by side against a bunch of ruffian kobalds, before calling it a night on a cliffhanger. She grinned as Dean balked. “I told you! The real gaming begins tomorrow! This was just a character-building session, and to teach you to roll the dice. And we have got to get you to the point where you can determine how many sides a die has at a glance. I’m not slowing game speed for you to sit and count sides.”
“I suggest putting them in a row in the order of their highest value,” Castiel said helpfully.
Dean glowered at him. “I’m not counting the sides. I’m trying to remember if that’s the one I’m supposed to be using.”
Kevin raised his beer bottle to Dean. “I’ll write you a cheat sheet. Like ‘roll the one with 6 sides for this weapon, roll the one with 20 sides to see if you hit,’ that kind of thing.”
“I’m not an idiot. I just need a little time to catch on.” Dean grabbed the player’s handbook from the prophet. “Give me this. I’ll know everything I need to know by the time we play tomorrow. You won’t have to worry about me slowing down battle. It’ll be our healer over there making eyes at our wizard dude when he’s supposed to be fighting.”
Sam coughed on his beer.
Castiel took far too long to realize he was the one being criticized, and that made the others laugh harder. “I was paying attention!” he promised.
“Whatever.” Dean drained the rest of his beer, and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “I’m going to read up on how to win your game.”
She sighed. “It isn’t about winning, Dean!” she called after him. “It’s really about surviving!”
“Story of our lives,” Dean and Kevin both called back as they disappeared down the hall in opposite directions.
Charlie sighed. “Sam, we’ve got our work cut out for us this weekend. Your brother doesn’t relax well, does he?”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Not unless it involves gambling and enthusiastic women.”
“You two go on. I’m going to do some planning. Kevin’s going to second-guess everything my NPCs do, so I gotta be ready. Go on. See you bright and early around noonish.”
Sam laughed, and put Castiel’s character sheet safely into the binder he had his own notes in, and placed his dice reverently into their pouch. He glanced at the angel as he began to lift his laptop, to find him watching.
“Will you...be busy with research tonight, Sam?” he asked passively.
The hunter looked down at the computer. It was almost difficult to separate himself from it, even though he knew he was heading for the bed. But lifting his gaze to meet hopeful blue eyes made his decision for him. He left it behind on the table. “No, I’m not busy tonight. This is our weekend off, right? I’m not looking for cases, so there’s no reason to take it with me to bed.”
Castiel seemed pleased. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “It would be nice to simply talk with you, if you aren’t busy.”
Charlie winked at Sam. “Good choice,” she said in a quiet voice, then went back to work planning her game.
It was twenty minutes later that Sam had showered and was creeping back into the bedroom in a towel.
The angel smiled at him. “Why do you do that, Sam? As though you think I’ll be asleep?”
His face heated a little. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You’ve slept in the past.”
“Not for a while.”
“No. I guess I just want to be considerate. It’s been years since I lived with Amelia; before that, it was something like eight years since I shared an apartment with Jess. Other than Dean, I haven’t shared space with anyone else regularly. It’s a little strange having company over.”
“Am I good company, Sam?” Castiel asked, and there was just a touch of tease in his voice.
Sam let his gaze wander over the figure lying on his bed. He looked so conservative, even without his suit, in a white tee and white boxers. But those were Jimmy’s choices, not Castiel’s. The angel had simply grown accustomed to wearing them. It suited him anyway, with his muscled thighs and strong arms and chest. It made Sam warm inside to know that he was the only one who ever saw him this way.
Not that he ever knew what to do with that privilege.
“You’re excellent company, Cas,” he murmured, almost wistfully. He turned and began to sift through his laundry for his own boxers and tee. After all this time, he was still self-conscious in front of the angel, which was silly, since Castiel was not even aware that one of them had any reason to be. He had no instinct for modesty or privacy. He was entirely unaware that Sam was trying to hide his body behind a too-small towel, nor would he have understood if he had realized it.
“I hope so.”
Sam looked up from sliding into his shorts. “You hope what?”
“I hope I’m acceptable company. It has been a very long time since I was in a barracks sort of situation.”
The hunter began to smile. “Is that how you see this, Cas? As a barracks?”
Castiel shrugged. “Not exactly. But is it that dissimilar? Several fighters all bunked together. The Men of Letters clearly did not expect to house a small garrison here, but there are adequate accommodations, since you said you didn’t mind sharing space with me.”
“Well, like you said, you don’t sleep, so...it made sense for you to be the one sharing a bunk, not like Kevin or Charlie.”
“But you could have relegated me to the library, if you’d preferred. I wouldn’t have minded.”
Sam licked his lips, and pulled his shirt over his head. “Man, you don’t sleep, but that’s not a reason for you to...not be comfortable. Right? And this barracks situation is going to be going on for a while, till we can determine if Kevin and Charlie are safe out there on their own. I mean, you could leave, but where would you go? The angels are after you, because they think you know something about the Grigori, and the Grigori are after you because they think you are spying for the other angels. And the last of the Stynes are after Kevin and Charlie, so Dean and I want them where we can protect them, till that psycho reaper Billie can track the rest of the Stynes down and end them. The safest place for everyone is right here.”
“Certainly,” Castiel agreed. “I simply hope that I can be acceptable company in the meantime. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“You’re always welcome,” Sam responded, with sincerity in his voice.
The angel was smiling again. “Sam, you have always been kind to me.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not when you were without a soul. But that’s to be expected, and I was certainly not...Anyway, other than that short while, you have always been kind.”
Heat was filling his cheeks again. “I’m sorry about that short while too,” he murmured. “I’ve run into a few people without souls since then, and they aren’t all assholes. Apparently, that’s my default, when I’m not weighed down by morality.”
Castiel’s deep voice softened. “Sam, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories of the past. If we continue along that line of thought, we can go on all night about my own transgressions. I simply wanted to thank you, for always making space for me.”
Sam sat on the bed somewhat gingerly. “I’ll always have space for you, Cas.” He cleared his throat. “We. I mean, me and Dean. I know we haven’t always been there for you in the past. But you’re family. We always want you to remember that.”
“Brothers, Dean once said,” Castiel murmured, in that strange, soft voice.
“Did-did he? Yeah, I mean...Definitely brothers.”
Blue eyes lowered, and Castiel pushed himself out of the bed to stand. “Yes,” he sighed. “Clearly brothers.”
Sam watched him. “You’re...not going to rest tonight?”
“I may watch some of your Netflix later. But I’ll keep it at a volume you cannot perceive. For now, I’ll leave you alone. You’re generous with your space, Sam. I shouldn’t...take advantage of that.”
He licked at his lips again. “I wish you would,” he murmured as Castiel closed the door behind him. He heaved a sigh, and stretched out on the lonely bed. “I really, really wish you would, angel.”