Chapter Text
Electricity hums from the light fixture behind Sam. The floor boards squeak above him, Dean and Bobby moved from the study to the dining room or kitchen. As much as he enjoys watching them down drink after drink while reminiscing on hunts or gossiping about hunters, Sam could name five other things he'd rather be doing, like laundry. Which he stares at now. It was a larger pile than he anticipated. Maybe he could have put up with the anecdotes and being ignored for a little while longer. He shakes off the last bit of that thought, tucking it away in his rather large filling cabinet of pathetic thoughts to keep him up at night. Sam could do this right way or just chuck everything in and hope for the best. Cold washes kept colors from bleeding. Sam contemplates this as he shoves the washing machine full of fabrics. He dumps a more than modest amount of his 'special' detergent in and shuts the lid. Bobby's usual broke him out in hives and Dean couldn't stand his bitching.
He fiddles with the dials until he thinks it's right. Sam silently wishes all the white clothes good luck, he saw Dean's bright red shirt and hoped he was right about cold water. And that Bobby's washing machine wouldn't give out like the last one did. Maybe he should lessen the load. He clicks it on. It starts fine but when the washing begins it rumbles and sputters. Damn it. He pops the lid halfheartedly. So much for the lazy man's way.
The lightbulb hums and flickers before steadying. Sam turns knowing Castiel is there. The angel stands at the base of the staircase, his impossibly blue eyes all but glowing under the incandescent light. Sam's gotten better at knowing when Castiel is coming-- or rather, when he's there. He keeps it to himself because it's way too funny when Dean freaks out at what he thinks is a sudden appearance. Castiel is as disheveled as ever. His hair is stuck in odd places and his clothes are askew. If it weren't for how strange he was, he'd look like a regular guy. Dean never shuts up about how weird Castiel is, but he focuses on the wrong things. With the angel's extended time with them, Sam swears he's seen a shifting under Castiel's skin. It happens when he's particularly annoyed at Dean. It could also be a figment of Sam's imagination... he isn't sure which is preferable.
"Is that what was making that horrendous noise?" Castiel asks gravely. His lips drift downwards, and there's that shifting. His skin pulls unnaturally to the side. Maybe it was anytime he emoted.
"Hmm, oh yeah. I overfilled the washer, it'll quiet down now, sorry."
Castiel hums low in his throat. A new habit he's picked up recently. Sam involuntarily shivers and turns to restart the washer. It kicks back on, not as loud as before but still wobbly. Sam wipes his hands off on his jeans, eyeing the soppy pile of clothes he's leaving out, they are gonna smell if he forgets. He puts the basket on top of a side table and scans the floor for what he was sent down for originally. The case of beer is right where it always goes when theres no room for it. He picks it up and almost rams into Castiel.
He knew when the arrived, not when he moves. How he remained so silent is a mystery even to Sam.
"I have acquired the mythic book you were looking for," Castiel states. Sam is staring at him wide eyed, still reeling from his shock.
"Right, yeah, thanks. Was it in Romania?"
"A village in Estonia."
Sam shifts past Castiel. He expects the angel to leave, but he hears the floorboards creak under the weight of the angel. Why he was so interested in sticking around now was unclear. He kinda thought after Dean's assholery he'd keep doing whatever it is he did when Dean didn't call for him. But here he was, trailing after Sam. He stops in the living room eyeing the Tv. Sam doesn't understand his obsession with it, but maybe that's a him problem.
"The remote's... somewhere. Usually it's on the VCR but I think Dean was watching something and didn't put it back when he left."
Castiel doesn't look thrilled at the notion of having to search for it. He doesn't display a large range of emotions, his expressions are pretty similar so Sam could be wrong and he's ecstatic to look for the remote. Sam leaves him to it.
Dean and Bobby are in dining room, Bobby's nicer whiskey in their tumblers. One of those days he surmises. Good thing he didn't stick around. The two are sat in silence now, just drinking. It's a little sad. Sam breezes past them without a word from either. He puts the beer in the fridge and grabs himself a soda. When he's halfway out the kitchen he realizes he has two. Feeling a little ridiculous, he doesn't put it back, Dean'll probably take it.
"Sammy," Dean slurs as if on cue. Dean's drunk as a skunk, eyes glazed and far away. "You took a fuckin long time on that beer."
"So sorry, there's a shit ton of laundry, and if you wanna leave anytime soon, we need clothes."
Dean's face doesn't know what it wants to do so he it lands on a half frown-half grimace. "Well, you coulda left one here."
"You already have whiskey." Sam replies incredulously. He puts the extra can of soda down and leaves the drunkards to their sadness. He catches a murmuring of 'ungrateful little brother' and can't help rolling his eyes. At least Bobby chuffs his brother on the back of the head for him. When Dean wasn't being as ass, he's butting in Sam's business. Rather than just asking, he tattles to an angel. Why he'd wanted his brother back is beyond him(that's a lie, but it validates Sam's feelings when he hates him just a little). Even if it was the most Dean thing he'd done in months.
Castiel is on the precipice of the living room and Bobby's work area. Intense blue eyes pining Sam in place. He should have brought the other soda. They stand in silence for a while, which isn't as bad as it had been. Sam likes to think he would have resolved it himself, but that involves confronting emotions he doesn't want to linger on. Even if they are obvious.
"I was unable to locate the remote."
"Then it might have died. There's buttons on the backside of the box. You'll have to use those to flip through the channels unless you wanna watch a movie."
Castiel looks back at Tv then to Sam. He makes a decision surprisingly fast. He approaches the Tv peering at the left then right. Sam watches him press random buttons before the Tv flickers on. The western channel is on, of course. Castiel's face morphs and he steps back, watching in wonder as the old, dead men on the screen run around after bandits or something. Sam walks further into the room and confirms they are criminals.
Sam leaves Castiel to his cowboys and locates both the remote(which is without its batteries) and the book he'd been trying to get a hold of.
Had he mentioned wanting it to Castiel?