legatumtacet-blog

[legatumtacet-blog]

Her intake of breath is loud in the quiet, though she can’t possibly know that. Eileen can’t find the words to repeat to herself that mantra that Sam is sweet, he doesn’t mean anything by it because she wants to believe it. 

“I used to dream about having a home when I was a little girl. A real home.” She traces the sign back to him, a warm echo. “Somewhere that I didn’t wake up to run six miles in the dark. Somewhere that I could have gone to prom.”

Lillian wouldn’t let her. They had a case, a possible banshee sighting two states over. There was no waiting. 

She smiles, hands stilling only long enough to push a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

Home. 

“I wanted to be normal, even though I never would.” She taps her earlobe. The conversation is hypnotic, lulling her into wanting to tell him everything. To share some part of herself with Sam that she didn’t share with anyone else. 

“But I know now that normal is just a setting on the dryer. But-” She breathes deep. Steels herself. 

“But being at the bunker with you and your family, it’s feels like home.”

@legatumtacet

He catches the sign for dream, finger on forehead curled as it pulls away. He knows that one. They live a life of dreams and nightmares they can’t escape. Not exactly surprising, how much it comes up in conversation.

But the rest, he’s stumbling over, until she turns and asks. He watches her carefully, softly, unsure. Not certain he hasn’t said something wrong. He slides her a smile, only a little tentative.

“Same thing I’ve been dreaming about since I was a boy.”

His inability to sign in full sentences frustrates him. He’s watched Castiel and Gabriel, effortless, and he could watch Eileen for hours. He himself can only punctuate his sentences with the signs he knows. I. Dream. Boy.

The details change, but the dream itself is always the same, and these days his life is closer to the dream than he’s ever been. Fingers and thumb touch the corner of his lips, lift an inch or two to touch his cheek.

      Home.

[legatumtacet-blog]

❝ i dreamed of you last night. ❞ ~Sam

@duocorpora

“Did you?”

Everything feels muddy, soupy with the hours they’ve been sitting here in the car. Stake outs weren’t something she did, but if Sam and Dean thought it was important enough to ask for her help, then she wasn’t going to turn them down. 

She also wasn’t going to turn down a reason to sit in a car with Sam for hours. 

Sam is sweet. It’s on repeat in her mind, thudding against the walls of her thoughts and trying to keep her heart from beating too fast in her chest. Sam is sweet, and he’d say the same thing to anyone else. 

What did you dream about? 

She’s not looking at him. She’s looking at the dashboard, even as she signs. Sam is good, he’s learning, but he isn’t ready for the kind of conversation that relies entirely on sign. 

Eileen pulls in a breath, holds it in her lungs until it burns, and finally turns his eyes back to his.

“What did you dream about?”

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greatbigbagoftricks:

He pulls a face, like she’s just handed over some dirty, dirty secret. Sort of shocked and appalled and deeply pleased with the information all at once. For a second, he leans his chin on both his hands, just grinning.

And then his hands are loose again, signs small and just a little secretive.

   Sweet? You gotta ask him what he eats, most guys taste kind of bitter –

Her laugh is big and bright and too loud for the silence of the room. Eileen covers her mouth with her hand for a second before she stands. Leaning across the table, she punches Gabe in the shoulder as hard as she can. 

It won’t hurt him, but that’s not the point. 

I have an angel blade and I will shove it up your ass. 

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Sam and Eileen being cute together.

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He’s got gorgeous hands. 

(It’s not like she can swoon over a guy’s voice. She has to take what she can get.)

But he’s about to get them broken if he doesn’t play his cards right. She answers those spastic brows with a raised one of her own, shoving down the flutter in her chest. 

Sam is sweet. He’s my friend. 

Sam is sweet. That’s the mantra. The one she uses when he says something bordering on flirty. Sam is sweet, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

@legatumtacet

    Soooooooooooooooo.

Gabriel manages to draw it out, somehow low and seedy even though he’s signing rather than speaking. Something to do with the eyebrows, probably, waggling like there’s a puppeteer having an epileptic fit at the other end of their strings. It’s a talent. God-given.

     You and Sam. Spill the beans.

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❝ you didn’t have to do that. ❞

“Yes, I did.”

This was her hunt. Her responsibility. Eileen was a grown woman, she wasn’t going to run back to Sam every time a hunt went sideways. This was her responsibility. 

That boy died because she didn’t track the water wraith fast enough. (She saved his brother. She tries to imagine Sam without Dean, and vice versa. It doesn’t work.) So it was on her to go to his parents, and apologize. 

Sorry wouldn’t bring their son back. 

She doesn’t tell him about being pulled under. Legs kicking fierce against the thickness of the water, lungs burning with the need to pull in a breath. Her vision going spotty. And thinking 

I should have told him 

before she was able to bury her knife in the wraith’s neck and force herself up to the surface to suck in air. 

(It wasn’t going to be like that. If she ever said anything to Sam, it would be because things were good. Eileen didn’t want his pity, she didn’t want a last night on Earth hook up. She wanted Sam.)

[legatumtacet-blog]

❝ am i really, truly, that unlovable? ❞ xoxo gabe

@greatbigbagoftricks

He’s joking. Gabriel is always joking, a secret little smile in the corner of his lips that made you feel like he was letting you in on the joke. 

But there are times that she feels like he’s not joking as much as he wants to be. Gabe was the one who walked away from Heaven, from his own family, because of what they did to him, to each other. 

“No.”

Simple, no nonsense. She doesn’t have to speak, and maybe if she doesn’t, if this conversation is more private, then he might listen to her. 

You’re very brave. You took care of yourself, even when everyone around you tried to make you the bad guy for doing it. You’re funny, you’re kind, and you deserve to be loved. 

She punches him right in the shoulder, for good measure. 

“I mean it.”

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❝ you didn’t have to do that. ❞

“Yes I did. You’re family.”

Thumb and forefingers of both hands touch, and then hands curl backwards against each other, encompassing. 

She’s known Jo for about a month. And when things got hairy, when a shifter den in Colorado gives her hell, it’s Jo that answers the text, and Jo that gets behind the wheel, and meets her in Grand Junction. 

They work well together. 

And the drive back gives them time to talk. About the Winchesters. About their fathers. About their favorite hunts, and their favorite foods, and a million other stupid little things. 

Jo is still finding her way, still doesn’t feel like she fits if she’s not pressed in close against Dean. (It hurts, watching them sometimes. Eileen has never been a believer in true love, but Jo and Dean are something more than she’s ever seen.)

So it’s her job to keep carving that place in their lives for Jo. 

“That’s what we do.”

[legatumtacet-blog]

SHORT STORIES, my favorite kind of poetry ( meme ).

SIX WORDS .

❝ i heard you were doing good. ❞ ❝ you don’t grow your horns overnight. ❞ ❝ i promise, it gets better eventually. ❞ ❝ & we never talked after that. ❞ ❝ am i really, truly, that unlovable? ❞ ❝ don’t talk like you’re coming back. ❞ ❝ my most dangerous habit is trusting. ❞ ❝ we’re made of stars & stories. ❞ ❝ you didn’t have to do that. ❞ ❝ everything is poetry when you’re drunk. ❞ ❝ did i mean anything to you? ❞ ❝ real feelings don’t just go away. ❞ ❝ you came & changed the weather. ❞ ❝ when can you just be mine? ❞ ❝ there was no love, only lust. ❞ ❝ darling, stop wishing on dead stars. ❞ ❝ art is another form of screaming. ❞ ❝ silence is the most painful goodbye. ❞ ❝ what the fuck did you do? ❞ ❝ i’m drunk, dizzy & missing you. ❞ ❝ kiss me like you’re losing me. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel like smiling today. ❞ ❝ not all good people are innocent. ❞ ❝ we’re a disaster in the making. ❞ ❝ some things are better left unsaid. ❞ ❝ we really should’ve talked about it. ❞ ❝ i’m so glad i met you. ❞ ❝ i wish i knew you earlier. ❞ ❝ i fucked (pronoun/name) to our song. ❞ ❝ i dreamed of you this night. ❞

TEN WORDS .

❝ you saw the messed up parts of me, & stayed. ❞ ❝ all i’ve ever wanted was for someone to save me. ❞ ❝ since you left, i have no one to talk to. ❞ ❝ i apologize for the nights in which i cannot breathe. ❞ ❝ everytime i look at you, i want to kiss you. ❞ ❝ we said no strings attached but now we’re in knots. ❞ ❝ there’s a difference between missing someone & missing having someone. ❞ ❝ for which f are you drinking? fuck, forget, or fun? ❞ ❝ my biggest mistake was thinking i could live without (pronoun/name). ❞ ❝ whenever (name/pronoun) rose to kiss me, i fell even more. ❞ ❝ i wish that ‘goodnight’ was followed by ‘i love you’. ❞ ❝ let’s smoke a pack of mentholds & talk about love. ❞ ❝ your deep, sleepy voice makes me feel like i’m okay. ❞ ❝ i read both of our horoscopes looking for an answer ❞ ❝ reality is the absolute last place i want to be. ❞ ❝ i didn’t expect that drunk kiss could mean this much. ❞ ❝ all i need is a late night drive with you. ❞ ❝ feeling pain is nowhere near as terrifying as feeling nothing. ❞ ❝ your eyes are the color of summer fading into autumn. ❞ ❝ you are the warmest home i will ever, ever find. ❞ ❝ the world is less scary when i am with you. ❞ ❝ i still can’t tell which of us was the victim. ❞ ❝ i just need an excuse to hang out with you. ❞ ❝ your expectations for me have been set way too high. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to feel this way about anyone else. ❞

[legatumtacet-blog]

— 9.15

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cruentusreus:

“I, Stiles.”

If you’ve never tried sign language before, being limited only to one hand is not a great way to start. But he’s going for it. She doesn’t look offended, either, so — so far so good.

“Do…ssssolemnly swear.”

Shut up, it’s not as easy as it looks. And he’s had a few beers.

“To kick ass and…help old ladies cross…the street, aaaand kill monsters so they don’t hurt…people.”

There!

There. 

“That’s it. It’s official. You’re a Man of Letters, now.” The American chapter were all dead. So was the Irish chapter. No one was going to show up and call her out on handing over membership. 

“You don’t get a discount anywhere, and nobody is gonna care.”

She cares. About Sam and Dean. About Cas. And Jo, still trying to find her place in their makeshift family. About Gabe, who never shuts up, and who has taught her a couple of signs she didn’t know for sex acts she isn’t sure are real. 

They’re hers. All of them. Whether they like it or not. 

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makeitlatxr:

Wow. She really doesn’t waste a second.

Jo likes her already.

“——maybe we should hold hands?”

The Winchesters have made this their home, and she knows what that must mean to them — to finally have one place for themselves. But it’s still new to her, she can’t help but to feel a bit awkward in their space.

“What next, then you gag me?”

She watches Jo’s eyes flick up, sudden, to Dean and then back down again, fighting a smile. Hopefully he choked. (Sam’s the one who gets flustered easy. It’s a good feeling to get under Dean’s skin.)

Eileen grins, turning blatantly in her chair to see Dean off before she focuses back on Jo. Her expression softens. 

“How are you holding up? This must all feel like a crazy dream.”

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duocorpora:

“They’re a mystery to all mankind,” he agrees, droll and still half-laughing. It feels like too much of his life these days is made up of life-or-death conversations. Confessions and admissions and arguments and decisions all rolled up into one. It’s more than a breath of fresh air to talk about nothing, to laugh about stupid stuff like touching his toes.

Sure, he does it with Dean, sometimes, but sometimes too it’s a struggle to pretend they’re back where they used to be, back-and-forth like brothers who haven’t given everything for each other, who don’t plan to keep on doing so. Like they haven’t been through what they’ve been through.

And it’s good, it’s perfect, it’s Dean. But this is something different altogether, and turns out, he needs it too.

“So, uh, when are you coming to visit, anyway?”

He makes sure to keep his head up, lips clear, but his eyes are lowered – as if it might be by seeing into his eyes when he asks that she figures him out. The quality of the pictures and the lighting probably aren’t good enough to reveal to her the faint dusting of colour on his cheeks, and for that he’s grateful.

“I’m working a case.”

It comes out like an apology, crinkling her nose. Sam and Dean had a way of steamrolling through cases. They had a backlog of information, two sets of strong hands, and a lot of luck. 

She’s a woman, a disabled woman in most people’s eyes. It takes longer to earn their trust and to intimidate them into giving her information. She can knife a demon just as fast as a Winchester, it just takes her longer to get from Point A to Point B. 

“Maybe I can call you when I’m done here. See if you’re not trying to stop the end of the world again.”

She stuffs down that hurt in her chest, locks it away. 

“I still owe you a beer from that case in Niagra Falls.”

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@makeitlatxr

The air in the bunker has shifted. There’s a fragility she’s never felt in this place before, and it’s Dean who pulls her to the side, who makes sure to keep his body angled towards hers so she can read his lips, but he can’t keep his eyes on her. 

A friend. She died. She’s back now. 

In the time it takes her to cross into the kitchen, to see the look pass between Jo and Dean, she gets it. 

A friend. 

“I’m Eileen. Dean thinks you’re going to disappear if someone’s not watching you.” She’s teasing, gentle as she slips into one of the kitchen chairs. 

“So I’m keeping an eye on you so he’ll go take a shower. He stinks.”

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cruentusreus:

Stiles smacks his palm down on the table, ready to be sworn in. 

“Do we get a cool ID or something? A badge? We should get a badge.” 

He’s rambling, eyes constantly shifting from his hand to her fingers — the signs he’s going to learn the second he’s sober and has a second to spare. Basically the second he gets back to his dorm.

He’s also making MOL badges. Fuck it.

“I, Stiles.”

She spells it styles, she’ll ask him about it later, when they’re not in the middle of an ultra-important induction ceremony, and waits for him to repeat. Her smile ratchets up a notch when he tries to follow along, all without taking his other hand from the table.

“Do solemnly swear.”

It’s hard to be solemn when he’s making that face. 

“To kick ass and help old ladies cross the street, and kill monsters so they don’t hurt people.”

[legatumtacet-blog]

[legatumtacet-blog]

cruentusreus:

Technically, he’s protecting the monsters. 

At least, that’s how the hunters will see it (and from what he’s learned about the British chapter, how the Men of Letters would see it too).

But his pack is not made up of monsters, they’re heroes who’ve kept their little town safe at the risk of their lives. So yeah, he’s protecting them from monsters.

“Yeah.” He nods, childish and satisfied with his conclusion. “Yeah, I am.”

She shouldn’t be drinking. 

Lillian’s frantic fingers still flash behind her eyes sometimes. Men only want one thing from you, girl. Nothing like a little archaic fear to get her to keep it in her pants. 

But no one in this bunker is going to be trying to get into her pants, wanted or otherwise. 

It’s safe here. 

And she’s already drunk, so fuck it. 

“Then you’re sworn in. Hand on the table.” She gestures for him to put his hand on the massive map table he’s draped across.