Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam tries his best to sleep on the ten hour flight between New York and Moscow but he just can’t. He can’t. How the hell did Castiel do this in the summertime?

He watches the clouds in the sky, he watches some movies, he even has a lovely two-hour-long conversation with the woman next to him—a young author who is traveling the world on a budget in order to write a book about cheap travel. As it turns out, she’s actually been to Murmansk before and tells Sam some of the ins and outs of the city.

But he really just spends the majority of the longest flight reading his book—The New Penguin Russian Course: A Complete Course for Beginners. It not only reminds him of grammar rules, vocabulary, and pronunciation, but it also gives him a slight rundown on Russian culture, history, and traditions in between chapters.

In the end, he still feels severely underprepared. The last thing Sam wants to do is fuck up five thousand miles away from home in a whole different country.

***

When Sam lands in Murmansk, he immediately looks out the plane’s window. When he slides the plastic shade open, he’s met with darkness. Wasn’t it only three-twenty in the afternoon? Switching his phone back on, it quickly vibrates in his hand, signalling that the first text message brought to him by his temporary international plan has been received.

[Cas: Please tell me when you land.]

[Sam: Just did. It’s so dark out.]

[Cas: Indeed. I will be waiting for you.]

***

Sam feels strange stepping off the Boeing 720—the final airplane of his trip—but he can’t quite place what it is.

He’s absolutely exhausted, having traveled about forty five hours without a wink of sleep. But there’s no nervous tension in his body like there was the first time they met, only an aching deep in his heart that yearns for the closeness he’s dreamed of for several months. Only the flashing memories of sweet lips and blue eyes, soft hands and dark hair, a warm body pressed to his as he slept. Only thoughts of Cas.

He’s almost one hundred percent certain that the feeling is nostalgia, but the only thing that nearly drowns it all out is the overwhelming sense of excitement to have all of it once more, even if for only a short period of time—and it’s a strange mix of emotions.

But it’s what drives him.

***

Sam struggles to read the Russians signs that point him towards the exit of the airport but he’s still proud of himself for reading a language that doesn’t use the Roman alphabet. Tugging his rolling suitcase behind him and hitching the strap of his backpack up on his shoulder, Sam doesn’t have to walk much further until he finds himself in the arrivals area of the surprisingly small airport.

There isn’t a large crowd like there was in Lawrence, only a small collection of warmly dressed people standing arm-widths away from each other as they wait for their friends and family. It doesn’t take as long to find Castiel either—his partner is standing in the front, just a little off to the side and holding a small paper sign that plainly says “Sam Winchester, Welcome To Russia” written in Cas’ neat handwriting.

***

The surge of overwhelming relief that washes over Sam when he finally sees Castiel in the flesh again is indescribable and no less magical than the first time, like seeing a radiant angel in human clothing. Breathtaking, sucking all the air from his lungs.

With long strides, Sam rushes up towards his partner, skidding his bag to a halt beside him before throwing his arms around the man he missed like a soldier missing home. Castiel tenses in his embrace for a split second before relaxing, his own arms coming to grasp the back of Sam’s winter coat briefly before silently pushing him away a few moments later when Sam tries to give him a kiss.

Sam’s immediate gut reaction is to frown, but the nervous darting of Castiel’s eyes around the arrivals area is enough to remind him of exactly why they can’t. They’re in public and they’re in Russia, one of the homophobic capitals of the world.

There’s nothing more in the world he wants at that moment than a kiss from Cas, but that’s okay… because the look, the feel, the smell, the closeness of his love is enough to ease the four-month-long aching feeling in Sam’s heart.

***

Castiel leads the way to his apartment near the city center via public transportation—a busy but efficient trolleybus. It’s so cold that Sam can’t feel the tips of his ears and the ride is long with many stops, but Sam can’t bring himself to care.

He should have known better than to try to publically display his affection for his partner in Russia—as his guidebooks and online articles had dubiously explained, not to mention the vivid memories of Castiel’s black eye and bruises from his attack a month earlier. There’s an itching twitch in his hand that begs him to wrap his around Castiel’s while sitting beside each other on the bus but he forces himself to stop, to sit on his hands instead because he never wants to see Castiel hurt ever again. He won’t even risk it.

But, of course, that doesn’t stop either of them from grinning stupidly at each other the whole ride into the city.

***

Castiel lives on the fifth floor of a very old apartment building about ten blocks from the city’s main plaza. Every dozen stairs or so, he quietly apologizes to Sam for the hassle but Sam assures him it’s no big deal as he carries his bags and his own heavy, tired feet up the rickety winding staircase.

The moment the door of apartment number 504 clicks closed behind them, Sam finds himself pressed up against the wall. Their lips finally meet and it’s like an intoxicating shot of energy. Sam is suddenly wide-awake and alert, arms coming up to wrap around Castiel’s waist as they kiss feverously in the skinny entrance hallway of the apartment, the mood in the air is a mixture of relief and passion, tinged with what feels like sadness.

Soon Sam realizes the corners of his eyes are wet as salty tears escape them for some reason unknown to him. The feeling of Castiel against his mouth, the warmth of his body against him, the tears in his eyes… it all pushes Sam over the edge, into muttering phrases he won’t remember between kisses like “I missed you. I need you, I love you. Oh god, I missed you. I dreamed of this. I missed you, I missed you.”

Castiel quiets his rambling with more kisses, each softer, slower, sweeter than the last.

***

Skipping the tour of the small single-bedroom apartment, they end up on the bed together at Castiel’s insistence. With their shoes kicked off, they lie on the firm mattress, legs tangled and fingers threaded together and foreheads touching. Sam gives Castiel’s hand a squeeze before dragging it up to his mouth, placing a reverent kiss on each knuckles.

“I have waited so long for this,” Castiel whispers into the air between them, bright blue eyes nearly glowing in the dark room. “For you.”

“Too long,” he agrees before kissing his partner’s hand again, his slightly pink and kiss-swollen lips lingering there just a little longer. Sam easily falls asleep to the even breathing and steady thrumming heartbeat of Castiel in his arms once again.

***

Sam feels a little more himself after a shower and some breakfast the next morning but he’s still severely jetlagged. It’s just after ten in the morning and for some reason it’s still a hazy-sort of dark outside when he looks out the fifth-story window.

“Why is it always so dark?” Sam asks with a frown, staring down at the road below that is lit up with street lamps just as it was the evening before.

“You do realize that Murmansk is in the Arctic Circle, correct?” Castiel says, appearing beside him at the window. “In December and January, there is no sun, only twilight for a few hours before night again.”

“Oh?” Sam had no idea. It made sense but he can’t believe he didn’t think of it since he knew the city was so far north and no guidebooks or forums or articles warned him about it. “Guess I didn’t need to pack sunglasses,” he says with a grin.

***

They end up walking around the streets of the city, all bundled up in a few layers, hats, and coats. Sam feels a little strange walking shoulder to shoulder with Castiel without holding his hand—something they did everywhere when Castiel visited him in Lawrence, but he supposes that’s the difference.

To keep himself from instinctively reaching out and threading his fingers through Cas’, Sam shoves his own in his coat pockets, fiddling with a gum wrapper to keep himself occupied. At lunch, Cas offers him some extra gloves from his small backpack, mentioning how cold Sam’s hands must be since he keeps them in his pockets.

Sam smiles and takes the gloves, thanking his partner but saying nothing more. His hands are a little cold, but only in a way that only Castiel’s warmth could cure.

***

Sam is sifting through his clothes in his suitcase for his pajama pants and a shirt when Castiel comes and seeks him out, carrying two hoodies and a few shirts folded neatly and stacked in his arms. It takes a moment for Sam to recognize them as his own, the ones he sent Castiel in a box much earlier that year. The corners of his lips tug up at the sight of them.

“Please wear these soon,” Castiel says, pressing them into Sam’s arms. His expression turns sheepish and a burning red blush rises to his cheeks when Sam looks at him questioningly. “I may have, hm, washed them too many times. They no longer smell like you.”

“Oh!” Sam gasps when he finally understands why Castiel thrust the clothing into his lap. He quickly plucks the red Stanford hoodie from the stack, throwing it over his head. “We’ll make sure to fix that this week.”

Castiel smiles. “In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the real thing instead.”

***

The next day, Castiel takes him on a small historical tour of the city. They visit the Alyosha Monument, which is a massive statue of a Russian World War II soldier that can be seen from nearly any corner of the city, and a walking tour of a few smaller monuments within the city limits.

But with there constantly being people around, they can’t do any of the things they could in Lawrence—hold hands, kiss, or take selfies together. Not without fear of tauntings or even another physical attack. The country’s homophobic laws and population keep them acting as strictly friends or else they might be “unlawfully promoting non-traditional sexual relations,” a law that is almost laughably ironic in their case.

But still, the danger is there and it torments Sam all day.

***

It takes them a few days to realize that going out is simply incredibly difficult and hard on the both of them. In fact, going out turns into a little bit of a chore. It’s cold, it’s dark, and they can’t do even the simplest of things as a couple.

So they stay in more, becoming short-term hermits and holing up in Castiel’s small and barren apartment but infinitely enjoying each other’s company more. There, in the safety between the white walls, they’re able to touch and hold and kiss and talk about whatever they want, whenever they want.

Sometimes Cas mutters about previously made plans or places he’d like to take Sam, but such protests die down quickly when Sam kisses the words from his lips, both of them getting lost in the utter bliss they find in each other, in the fact that they can finally reach out and touch each other once more without a screen or five thousand miles between them.

***

Sam wakes up cold.

No, not cold. He wakes up fucking freezing.

His toes are numb, as well as the tips of his nose and ears and every other inch of skin that’s exposed to the chilling air of the apartment. It’s pitch black in the bedroom but Sam can’t assume that it’s still night because of the Arctic-friggin-Circle. When he glances over his shoulder, Castiel’s digital alarm clock red letters display that it’s thankfully only a little past two in the morning.

He tries to curl up under the blankets but ends up huddling against the other warm body in the small bed instead. Sam knows it’s a total douchebag thing to do but he wriggles his feet until they’re pressed against Castiel’s warm ones, causing the man to jolt awake.

“что?” Cas mumbles as he comes out of his slumber. Sam braces for him to be mad or something for the rude awakening, but instead his partner reaches around Sam, pulling him in until they’re flush together. Sam melts against him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold?”

“‘M sorry,” Sam manages to whisper into the crook of Castiel’s neck, eyelids feeling heavy again as he warms up.

***

Of course, Castiel couldn’t take the entire ten days off from his coursework—Sam knows that research and studying are never finished for Castiel in his program. They set aside the late afternoons, just before dinner, to cover themselves with blankets in Castiel’s bedroom and surround themselves with books.

He would never admit it, but Sam gave up on reading his Russian language books early on in the trip in favor for watching his partner move about naturally, to observe him in his own home, his comfortable space. It’s something he’s never gotten to do and he savors every minute of it.

Cas’ brows furrow together when he’s concentrating, purses his lips when he’s pouring over a particularly complex text, shakes his foot when he’s thinking. And sometimes Sam gets a glimpse of a pink tongue dart out between winter-chapped lips.

Each and every little quirk that he learns about his partner delights him to the point that he has to hide his smile behind his book when Castiel glances suspiciously in his direction.

***

They fill the rest of their days and evenings doing a multitude of things—playing board games, reading books, daily Russian lessons which Sam mostly spends entranced with Castiel’s voice, all usually followed up by making out under the blankets of Castiel’s bed. It’s so easy to pass the time together, simply just enjoying that they’re together again, in the flesh.

During times like these, it’s easy to forget that Sam has to leave in a few days and they’ll be apart again, this time for an indefinite amount of time.

***

“Double the amount of rum, please.”

Sam casts Cas a look but follows his directions—after all, he’s the one who’s actually made this dish before. He pours in extra rum into the concoction of jam, wheat, eggs, and sugar in the bowl before him. Sam honestly has no idea what the end product named “Povidlyanka” is supposed to look or taste like, but Castiel has simply described it to him as “jam pudding.”

After working side by side in the tiny kitchen, Sam and Castiel move to the small table by the window to eat their traditional Russian dinner. Each dish like nothing Sam has ever eaten before but is delicious nonetheless. He feels that the handmade meal means more than just good food but rather an intimate sharing of traditions and culture. There’s a piece of both of them here, within each plate that were carefully made and arranged by either of them.

The moment of truth comes and Sam watches carefully as Castiel takes the first bite of the pudding. There’s a small feeling of relief that rushes through Sam when Castiel puts his spoon down and smiles at him.

“It’s perfect.”

***

Having been well fed, they stretch out as best as they can on Castiel’s small couch to watch a movie on Castiel’s laptop. Sam brought a small DVD case with fifteen of his favorite movies and shows, and while he’s watched probably almost half of them on his flight over to Russia, he lets his partner choose which one they’ll watch.

“I’m having difficulty choosing between The Princess Bride and Life of Pi.”

“Ah, I mean, I like them both—”

“But what is this? Firefly?” Castiel asks, waving around the shiny disk hooked on his finger.

“You don’t—you mean, you’ve never—?” Sam stutters out, eyes narrowing on his partner. Castiel shakes his head. “Oh my god. We’re watching it.”

***

“The Christmas Market opens today,” Castiel informs him cheerfully the next day, pulling their coats out of the small closet in the corner of the bedroom and handing Sam his. “It wouldn’t be right sending you home without experiencing it.”

Castiel proceeds to tell him all about it as they pull their layers on, getting ready to brace the eight degree Fahrenheit weather that threatens the safety of Sam’s ears and fingers. Sam pulls an extra shirt on under his hoodie and coat to stave off the chill as Castiel tells him all about the food made by local chefs and stands upon stands of handmade goods from people who come from all over the Kola peninsula.

Sam finds Cas’ excitement incredibly charming and he can’t help but to plant a kiss on the man’s lips, interrupting him in the middle of a rather vivid description of the lights strung through the squares.

“How about I see it myself?”

***

Sam’s not sure if he’s spent too much time in the tepid weather of California or if he’s just a big baby, but damn, it’s fucking cold out—even with the all the layers.

Even so, it doesn’t take away from his enjoyment of the Christmas Market. It’s set up in the city’s most prominent square—all lit up in the dark afternoon with hanging lights—and contains all of the things that Castiel told him about and more. There’s rows of stalls filled with handmade commodities and the occasional oddity, each one flanked by a food stall that emanate the delicious scent of freshly baked pastries and other cooked dishes.

“Here, please drink this,” Castiel says, suddenly appearing at his side after disappearing fifteen minutes earlier and handing Sam a small styrofoam cup. “It’s sbiten.”

Sam peers down at the steaming hot brown liquid, skeptically cocking an eyebrow as he raises it to his lips. It tastes as good as it smells—like spiced wine, honey-sweet with the fruitiness of something.

‘Jam?’ Sam thinks, remembering the nation’s fascination with putting the stuff on or in everything. Even Castiel loves putting it on his daily toast. Sam glances over to look at his partner, who sips at the drink blissfully. ‘Yeah, probably jam.’

***

They wander to a nearby park, finding an empty bench near the statue in the center and claiming it. Their spot is a little dim since the streetlamps are few and far between and the sky is growing a few shades darker as the day approaches its end. Sitting with an ample space between them, Sam and Castiel sit and drink their sbiten and share a slice of honey cake made by a sweet little old lady at the Christmas Market.

Sam looks up from his cup to see Castiel look around them almost exaggeratedly before he slithers a gloved hand across the peeling wooden bench and intertwines their fingers together. The action surprises Sam, a blush rises to his cheeks and adds to the color that’s already there from the cold. But he can’t help but to feel the both the urge to draw his hand back to protect Castiel and the urge to be proud and public about their relationship.

It hurts Sam deeply to feel these conflicting emotions. It’s becoming so clear to him just how much he needs to touch and hold, to show his affection—and not being able to do that outside of the two-hundred and seventy square feet of Cas’ apartment is killing him.

***

“Are you lying to me?” Cas shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Sam across the couch. “Please say you are!”

“Nope,” Sam says, his lips curling up in an evil grin. “Not lying at all.”

“This is unacceptable!” Castiel whines, throwing a piece of popcorn at the computer screen. “I refuse to accept it!”

Sam laughs uncontrollably, clutching his gut while he watches his partner throw the exact same fit he threw when he learned that Firefly was cancelled after only fourteen episodes.

“I need more!”

***

It’s the evening of Christmas Eve—or at least, Christmas Eve for Sam since Castiel’s religion celebrates it on January seventh—and they’re getting ready for bed when Castiel turns to him with a small red paper envelope from the nightstand drawer in his hands. He looks to Sam, a little bashful.

“I know we decided against Christmas presents this year, but I hope that you don’t mind that I have a card for you,” he says, handing it to him like something precious.

“Oh really? I’m kind of relieved because I have one for you too,” Sam returns, stooping to unzip the inside pocket of his suitcase and pulling out a green envelope sealed with a round gold sticker. He holds it between them in shy offerance. “Here, you go first.”

***

Sam stares down at the front of the handmade card decorated in meticulously cut out shapes of Russia and the continental United States cut from pages of their respective local newspapers. It’s clever and cute and looks almost professionally made, putting Sam’s own store-bought card to shame instantly.

He tries his hardest to discern what the Russian words written inside translate to. He must be struggling a little too much as Castiel comes to his rescue, fishing the card from his hands and reading it aloud.

“It’s a Russian saying. It says ‘В это время года , когда все на самом деле думает о тех, которые они любят и дорожатбольше всего, мои мысли устремлены на вас,’” Castiel reads, his mother-tongue flowing effortlessly off his lip but Sam can only catch a few simple words here and there. “Which translates to roughly ‘At this time of year, when everyone thinks of those they love and treasure the most, my thoughts are fixed on you.’”

“Cas…” Sam is speechless—there’s nothing he could say that would amount to a heartfelt sentiment like that. Instead he reaches across and gathers him into his arms, into a tight hug that he hopes will convey all the words that he can’t seem to voice.

Sam considers saying ‘I love you’ but he feels that the phrase is not strong enough for what he’s feeling. ‘Oh, the faults of the English language,’ Sam thinks to himself.

***

“Here’s these back,” Sam says, holding a stack of clothing in his hand in the space between them. “They should, uh, smell like me again. Or at least I hope they do.”

Castiel gathers the articles of clothing into his arms, taking a deep inhale. From the heavenly expression on his face, Sam knows they’re just fine.

“Thank you,” Cas says, stashing them carefully in the top drawer of his nightstand. “They will help a lot in the future.”

***

“We’ve gone through this once before,” Castiel says the morning of the day that Sam leaves to go home. His tone is soft, reassuring, but not completely as if he didn’t quite believe himself. “We can survive it again.”

“I know,” Sam says, pulling his partner a few inches closer to him on the bed, drinking in his heat and his scent as much as he can. “‘S doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“Of course,” Cas agrees with a whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Of course…”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Sam begins, feeling his eyes start to well up. He brings up a sleeve to wipe his face but Castiel is too fast for him, brushing away the falling tear with a thumb. “I just wish we lived closer to each other.”

“We did nothing to deserve this distance,” his partner murmurs, continuing to shower Sam’s face with brief little kisses as if they’d solve everything. “But one day, we’ll be together in the same space.”

Sam’s attention peaks at the statement, eyes fluttering open to look at Cas. It’s something they haven’t talked about yet, being together together. “Really? You really think so?”

“I know so.”

***

The area near the airport security is rather clear of people except for a few in line and some airport employees hovering around. Still too many people, Sam decides begrudgingly. But they still stand close, probably too close to be ‘just friends’ but it’s all he can get in public.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t heartbroken over the fact that he can’t give his love one last goodbye kiss before leaving and not seeing him again for god knows how long. For the past twenty minutes, he’s been fighting every fiber of his being to not lean in and catch Cas’ lips between his own.

The large clock on the wall ticks over the hour and an automated ding rings through the airport accompanied by a woman’s voice announcing the time. With a heavy heart, Sam gives Castiel a forlorn, sympathetic look before turning away, gathering his bag onto his shoulder and reaching for the handle of his rolling suitcase. He can’t even get himself to say the word ‘goodbye.’

It would break him.

Hands come from behind to grip his shoulders, spinning him around quickly. Sam lets out a small shout in surprise, the sound only to be stifled a split-second later when a mouth crashes against his. Eyes flying open, Sam sees that Castiel is kissing him. Kissing him in public. It’s sloppy, it’s crude, it’s off-center… and it’s perfect.

Castiel cuts the kiss short, spinning Sam back around despite his protests and forcibly pushing him towards the entrance of the airport security line. His face looks incredibly distraught, cheeks reddened and his eyes are wet.

“Cas…!” Sam tries as he’s pushed forward.

“Please, Sam. Just go,” Castiel says over the crack in his voice. Sam watches at a complete loss of words as his partner turns tail and briskly walks toward the exit, not even sparing him a second glance.

***

[Cas: I apologize for how I acted. It was rude.]

[Sam: No! It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it. Honestly I wanted to kiss you the entire time but I didn’t think we should, but I got a little confused when you pushed me away.]

[Cas: I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you leave without a kiss.]

[Sam: Then maybe you shouldn’t have and then I wouldn’t have had to leave. :) ]

[Cas: If only the world worked that way.]

***

When Sam touches down at the J. F. K. International Airport, he takes the opportunity to check his email and iMessages that he couldn’t receive abroad. Most of them are from school, classmates, or Dean but the last iMessage is one that catches his eye. It’s from Castiel and Sam has to do a considerable amount of scrolling up to read it.

[Cas: Sam, I realize that this visit was not as wonderful as you may have imagined. The place in which I live has put great restraints on us and our relationship. Normally, I do not have any issues in being myself in public nor do I tend to notice other people or have to worry about how they view me. However, this week was an eye-opening experience. I wish with all my heart that we could have enjoyed ourselves more outside of my apartment. I think your visit to Murmansk has allowed me to realize that I would do anything to be closer to you. I would give up everything to be able to wake up to you every morning and hold your hand and kiss you in public. And I hope that one day we will no longer have to travel more than a few feet to see each other.]

Each word strikes a chord in Sam’s heart, resonating in his very soul. As he waits for his flight back to San Francisco, the last leg of his journey, Sam types and retypes his reply to such a long and thoughtful message. Unfortunately, his words seem to fail him and nothing sounds right. He regretfully opts for a simple message.

[Sam: I want all of that too. Though hopefully sooner rather than later.]

Castiel’s reply is surprisingly quick—he must be awake, even though it’s the middle of the night in Murmansk. Not that the sky would say any different, Sam jokes with himself.

[Cas: I think we could arrange that. That is, if you’re agreeable.]

[Sam: Are you asking]

[Sam: What are you saying]

[Sam: Oh my god]

[Cas: (-: ]