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They’re sprawled out on the couch, Sam’s head in Cas’ lap, blinking lazily and slow as Cas runs his fingers through Sam’s hair.
Mostly, they’ve been silent, relaxing their way through a quiet afternoon, but Cas seems to have found a need to talk.
He doesn’t want to talk about the weather, or the movie they saw the night before, or even the mysteries of seventies disco. He instead moves directly to heavier topics, and Sam always wants to indulge Cas, wants to give him all the information he needs, but this has him tensing, uncomfortable. He thinks he might be sweating, even though he hasn’t moved from Cas’ lap for well over an hour.
Sam shakes when he hears the question. He knows Cas doesn’t mean to prod at him like this, doesn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable, but it’s happening nonetheless.
“My brothers–when you were with them–”
Sam doesn’t even know where the question is going, not really, although he might hazard a good guess. But he doesn’t need to know. He just knows hedoesn’t want to talk about the archangels.
“Red,” Sam blurts. Then he flushes the same color he just said, because that word is for their bedroom, on nights they play around, but it’s not for the rest of their lives. It’s not for out here, out jn the real world. It’s not for stupid questions. It’s not a get out of jail free card. Sam should be able to answer a stupid question, or at least physically tell Cas he doesn’t want to answer, he shouldn’t just close his eyes and say a word and hope it all goes away, that’s not how things work–
“Okay,” Cas says immediately. His hand continues stroking Sam’s hair, and his free hand settles on Sam’s arm, squeezing his forearm lightly. “Okay, Sam. We’re done. I’m done. No more questions, I promise. I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked. Thank you for stopping me.”
Sam cracks his eyes open, getting a look at Cas’ face. He seems serious, like he really is grateful Sam stopped him like that.
Cas keeps stroking his hair. “Thank you,” he repeats. Then, “You’re still…shaking. I should have noticed before. What can I do to make you feel better?”
Sam doesn’t answer for a minute. “It was okay?” he asks.
Cas nods seriously. “We have that word to mean stop. You wanted me to stop. I don’t see why you shouldn’t use it,” he says. “I’m glad you did. I should always stop when you want me to.”
Sam processes that, then exhales visibly, and just that simple act starts to relax him. “Let’s not move,” he says. “Just keep…doing what we were doing. Without the questions.”
“No more questions,” Cas agrees.
Sam closes his eyes again. Cas keeps stroking his hair, Sam keeps breathing, and soon enough, he feels alright again.