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streaminn · 11 months

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"Your Majesty?" Enid pushes the black door open, looking down at her superior. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," the Queen is facing the window. It's dark outside. "There is important news."

"Well," Enid wiggles the fluffy ears on her head, "I'm all ears!"

The Queen mutters something under her breath in a different language. She turns to face the taller.

"There was a symbol of threat on the outermost edges of our wall." She looks Enid in the eyes. "From the Barclay monarchy."

Enid sputters, "I thought we were allies?"

"We were, but we refused to comply with their wishes."

Enid feels her hands tighten.

"What wishes? I thought our alliance benefited everyone in it?" Her hand falls to rest on the hilt of her sword. It provides some comfort.

"It did. But they got into a... disagreement with the Ottingers, and I refused to yield to them. So, as it stands, I've made enemies of them."

"Okay. With all due respect, your Majesty, I fall to see why this required me of all people? Shouldn't this be between you and your advisors? Or the head of the Royal Guard?" Enid tilts her head.

"I have spoken with them already. And they all said the same: I need someone to aid in watching me."

"But you're plenty strong and capable on your own?"

"Yes," the Queen nods, "that was as I said as well. But, they had a fair point." She walks over to Enid. She's so much smaller, Enid almost has to look straight down. It stretches her neck. She can't imagine how bad the Royal's neck must hurt.

"I need more protection, especially considering that Barclay is one of the bigger powers. So, you are hereby to guard me at all times."

"Oh—kayyyyy?" Enid watches her walk to her desk, taking out a quill and ink. "Why me, though? I'm hardly the best. I'm pretty sure the captain of the Royal Guard is better suited."

"Are you questioning me, Sinclair?" She raises an eyebrow. She puts writing utensils in her bag.

"No Ma'am!" The knight yelps. "Just— uh. Worried..." she clenches her fists and bites her lip, looking at the ground. "That you might've made. The. Wrong. Choice? Sorry?" She offers.

"Ha." Is the dull sound she gets. The Queen walks past Enid, right to her door. "Come. You are to guard me at all times." Enid squawks, almost falling with how fast she turns.

"Yes your Majesty!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

It's surprisingly fun to follow the Queen around on her duties. Hah.

Duties.

She's much busier than Enid first thought. She knew the royal woman had things to do, but she always thought it was maybe three things and then she just sat in her room all day.

Turns out, she does stuff all. Day.

Enid doesn't want to sound bratty, but she's bored. She's stuck next to her Queen, listening to old people complain about old things.

Trees apparently need to be cut because of rain and rocks or something, there's some kind of small riot forming because of no honey being sold. There's some old woman who somehow killed a trained guard by scaring him. They aren't sure if she should be charged or not.

Enid wonders when this will end.

The Queen is nice to look at, at least. Enid consoles herself with looking at the fine silk and leather of her dress. She's pretty sure she actually knows the man that made it. Some farmer-semester who takes commissions. Enid should visit sometime.

She watches as the Queen tells off some idiot for suggesting something. She's not paying attention as to why.

She forces herself to look at everyone but the only person she wants to look at.

She wonders what's for dinner.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The Queen's room is fucking cold, all the time. She understands that she likes feeling like a corpse, but Enid is about to lose her fucking mind. The metal of her armor is just becoming ice with how cold it is.

But she needs to wear it to keep them both safe, and it's rude to be unarmored as a guard. So, she sucks it up and calmly sits in the corner while her Majesty writes letters. She writes a lot. Enid wonders what they could be about.

"Blah, blah, blah, everything sucks and I'm mad." She mutters under her breath. That's what she thinks the letters say. What she likes to imagine, anyway. It's more fun than just staring at the wall.

She jolts when a voice speaks.

"Are you alright?" The Queen is facing her now. Dark eyes making her stomach knot and twist.

"Huh?" She asks.

"You've been glaring a hole in the wall for some time." The Queen blinks.

The knight nods.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

The Royal stares at her with an intensity that has her skin feeling hot under her armor.

"If you're lying, confess now. I will not have deceivers guarding me."

They have a staring contest for a few clock-ticks.

Tock.

"Okayyyyyyyyy," Enid drawls, embarrassed. "I may have lied." She lifts up pinched fingers. "Just a little."

The Queen raises an eyebrow when she doesn't elaborate.

"Speak the truth, then."

"Well." She shuffles foot-to-foot, caught and flustered. "It's cold and I am so bored." Her voice gets whiny and she suddenly has the urge to scratch her neck with her sword.

"Cold?"

"My armor is made of iron and I'm in a freezing cold room. I'm in an ice block." She tries to keep her tone respectful. She hopes she's done it well.

"And bored?"

"With all due respect, I need enrichment. I feel like a horse not being given its sugar cube." Enid mopes, her ears dropping.

"Ah." The Queen says, calmly. She turns and grabs a paper, holding it out. "Here."

"What?" The Queen holds the paper aloft. Enid cautiously walks over, expecting rebuke with each step. She gingerly takes the written-on paper. Their hands bush.

"Help me review my letters. Be my aide. And take your armor off if it's distressing you." Enid swallows her spit and nods.

"Uh... are you sure? I thought it was bad to be unarmored. Rude."

"When have I ever been one to obey social norms?"

Enid presses her lips into a line. "Fair enough." She slowly takes off her armor, careful to not be too loud or damage the fine-crafted plating.

"I'm not the best writer," she takes a paper. "I don't think I could help you."

"Your eyes are better than mine. You could see something that I couldn't." Enid looks at the paper. She hands it back, pointing at a spot near the middle.

"You missed three letters and a period." A pause. "Ma'am."

"This will benefit us both." She takes the paper back, fixing her mistakes. "Unless you will tire of aiding me?"

Enid sits on the floor, crossing her legs so her sword's sheath doesn't sit at an angle and pop out.

"I don't think I could." She takes a paper, reading all the loopy characters and fancy words. "You're fun to be around."

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

They're out on an excursion through some big-ass forest. Something about land markings and fruits. She didn't pay attention; she was focused on their hands touching while holding the horse reins.

("I am capable of controlling my own horses."

"I don't doubt you, your Majesty," Enid lifts her hands to placate, "but I don't think it's possible for you to take two separate reins and guide both horses smoothly. Ma'am."

The Queen scoffed. "Fine. The point you make has some sense. But you are the only allowed to aid me," she turned back to the wagon, climbing on, "should anyone attempt to remove you of your post, full permission to fight them."

Enid nodded. "Yes, your Majesty.")

The Queen's hand brushes hers every four gallops. Every 8 or so seconds. The cold of her skin against the warmth of Enid's is oddly soothing.

"We need to go left, there's a large amount of apple trees."

"Yes, your Majesty." She leans to the side to lead the horses correctly, and pushes their arms together.

"Sorry." She whispers, almost hoping the Royal doesn't notice.

"It's fine, Enid." The horses even out as they finish turning, almost falling off as they go up a hill. "You're just aiding me."

Her hands are so soft. Cold, too. So cold.

"Right," she agrees, ignoring how much she'd really love to take her Majesty's hand. "I am your aide!" She cheers.

"You're foremost my guard. You are only an aide because everyone else is too incompetent."

"You think I'm competent?" She asks. Her heart smacks her ribs.

"You're the least incompetent." She repeats.

In a rare bout of teasing, she grins softly.

"So I'm competent in comparison?" The Queen sighs, whipping her horse slightly.

"If it will make you quiet, yes. You're competent by comparison."

Enid smiles, tail wagging behind her.

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

It's night, and the Queen insisted that she needed to go out for crow feathers.

"They hold ink far better than that of a swan." She was told.

Truthfully, she thinks the Royal is dramatic and likes the birds. She doesn't voice her thoughts, though. She'd get left in the middle of the forest if she did.

Enid holds the lantern while the Queen pokes at a fat bird, making it shake and lose a few of its dark feathers.

She waits patiently for her Superior to fill her little wicker basket full of them. It's weirdly nice. They aren't talking, but she feels close. Personal. It's nice to just follow and listen to the final bird calls and animals founding homes for the night.

It's still freezing, though. Her armor is ice-cold against her warm skin, sapping her of body heat. The Queen kneels down, rubbing her hand against the ground, checking for more quills.

"Enid?" She asks quietly, barely above a whisper. The Werewolf jolts.

"Ah— yes, your Majesty?" Her hands are held in front of her, polite and ready to aid.

"Do you..." her hand stays on the ground, but she's no longer moving it. "Do you ever regret becoming a knight? Being involved in royalty?"

"Uh." Enid lets a hand rest on her sword. "I... can't really say I do, your Majesty. If I may ask, what brought these thoughts to you?" Enid keeps her voice low.

"Sometimes I worry if you aren't happy." She rips a rose out of the ground, "protecting me. Being a part of my business."

"I chose to be a knight, my Queen. I made the choice to be involved in everything."

"Do you think you'd be happier if you did other things? A gardener, an animal caretaker. A medic." She places the rose in her basket. She stands up, and faces the knight. "Would anything else make you happier?"

Enid takes a second to think.

She hates the feeling of dirt on her skin, under her nails.

She doesn't have the stomach to handle all the grossness that comes with animals, no matter how cute they are.

She couldn't handle failing someone and costing them their life.

"No, your Majesty." She shakes her head. "Nothing."

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

She's tired. She hasn't slept and she's been lying, because she needs to be good enough to keep the Queen safe.

Her armor is still sucking in the cold like a sponge, and it's making her sleepier.

It's the middle of the day; why can't the sun warm her at least a little bit?

"Stupid glowing asshole." She grumbles.

"What?" Comes sharply.

"Ah! Not you, you Majesty! The sun!" She explains quickly, waving an arm wildly to the window.

"The." The Queen turns to look at her from her chair. "Sun?"

"Yeah! It's—" now she's embarrassed. "It's cold and yet the sun is out! The big fuc— thing isn't warming me at all!"

The Royal just blinks at her, like she's stupid.

And looking at it: she's blaming the sun for not being hot enough to warm her indoors. Maybe she is.

Just a little.

"If you're cold, just strip."

"WHAT?!"

"Your armor!" The Queen adds, much too late to cool the blood rushing to Enid's face. "Take off your armor!"

"Oh..." Enid bites her lip. She's only wearing the standard tank top and thin pants— the armor is meant to keep her warm, but apparently, no one making the armor ever considered that maybe iron would intake cold and expel warmth.

She slides her sleeves off first, then the chest. The legs, then the armored boots.

It's still cold, but she doesn't want the Royal to get annoyed.

"You're shivering." Enid chokes.

"Uh... it's from... the... excitement of being a guard?" She says, voice rising in pitch.

The Queen stares at her.

"I'm freezing my tail off." She blunts. She wraps her arms around herself.

"Grab a blanket from my bed and get over here," a black-nailed finger points at her bed. "I need help proof-reading."

Enid slowly walks to the plush looking bed, grasping the first blanket she can. It's a raven colored one, thick and soft and oh-so-warm.

She wraps it around her shoulders and pads over to the Queen. She drops and sits cross-legged on the floor next to her chair, taking the paper she's handed.

She listens to the scratching of quill on paper, the quill being dipped into the inkwell. The Queen is a quick writer, she learns. But with that speed, she loses focus on her words and makes mistakes.

After a few hours, the sun goes down, and it's colder than before. The blanket does a good job on keeping her warm.

But is the Queen?

Enid looks up and she's shivering, ever so slightly. Her hands tremble from the frigid air. When Enid gets a letter, there's more mistakes and her writing isn't as neat.

She can hear the Royal's teeth chatter, short bursts of clicks. She pouts in thought.

'Could I convince her to put on a cloak?'

She stares at a tense jaw, shaking hands, and shivering frame.

Her Queen is cold, and it wouldn't befit her to leave the Royal cold and unable to do her job.

She takes the left side of the blanket and stands up, throwing it over her Queen.

It's big enough that she can sit down and still be completely covered, along with her Majesty.

Dark eyes bore into her. She grins.

"So you don't get too cold!" She says, looking back at her stack of papers. She sorts through them, and hands one to the Queen.

"You forgot to sign this one."

"Right." The hand that takes the paper from her is cold. "Thank you."

After a few beats, Enid feels a hand rub in between her ears, scratching at the base of her left one. Her tail smacks the ground.

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Since then, things have been nicer. The Queen is less cold, snappy. She's not talkative; Enid is pretty sure was born with resting bitch face.

Since their little...

Moment.

She's been calling Enid an idiot less, which is nice. It feels like they're some weird form of friends now.

Buddies.

Enid learns how she takes her coffee, which is apparently some kind of state secret. She was sworn to not telling any other living creature that she likes black coffee.

She's weird.

Enid doesn't mind.

She writes her own letters, sometimes. Never anything too important; she wrote a letter to Yoko. That was fun.

But now she's got a new issue.

She is touch-starved like a bitch.

She already doesn't hug anyone because of the 'it's rude to be unarmored' bullshit, plus wearing the armor constantly, and the only real physical touch she gets is getting hit during training.

So, to have her ears scratched by someone she trusts?

She didn't realize how starved she was until she was given just a crumb of touch.

And she is needy. She is so, so needy.

She tries to ignore how nice it felt, but damn is she a weak-willed woman.

"Enid?" The voice knocks her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"When was the last time you slept?" Enid laughs nervously.

"Whaaaaaaat?" She says, shaking. "I slept on... y'know," she waves a hand in gesture, trying her best to remember the current date and pull something out of her ass. "Friday?"

The Queen's eyes get wide.

"It's Thursday." She hisses.

"Uh..." Enid smiles unsurely, "I took a long nap yesterday?"

The Queen's black eyes stare at her, unimpressed.

She clears her throat. "Sorry."

"You are going to sleep until morning," Enid opens her mouth to convince otherwise, but the Royal makes an 'ah!" sound. "This is non-negotiable. You are sleeping for at least a few hours." She pauses.

"You are of no use protecting me if you're too tired to fight properly."

"I truly appreciate the concern, your Majesty, but I assure you," she flexes her arm subtly, "I am able to fight just as well as ever!"

"So, if someone threw a knife at you, you'd dodge it?"

"Without iss—" s slap cuts her off. She wasn't even aware the Royal could reach her face.

"You can't even avoid a slap to the face. You have no chance to evade a sword swing." Enid rubs her cheek, whining.

"Did you have to hit so hard?"

"Pain is the best teacher." She turns around and faces the bed.

"Take off your armor and get in." Enid stops the passive aggressive comment she feels in her mouth and quietly removes the metal.

It's only once she's once taking off her left armored boot does the truth stab through her sleep-deprived mind.

"We're sleeping in the same bed?"

"Yes." The Queen takes the edge of the warm blanket from the day before and lifts it, sliding under it. "If you are still going to protect me, as is your job, then you need to be in close proximity."

"Close..." she whispers to herself, shaking hands grabbing the side of the blanket. She slides under it, facing the Queen and watching her quietly.

She sleeps weird; arms crossed like a corpse and lying like a log. Enid busies herself

Suddenly, the Royal turns to face her.

"Why aren't you guarding me?"

"I— I am!" She defends.

"You aren't; anyone could strike me. Protect me." She says.

"I— how?" She can't really think of anything else. Maybe she needs to get her sword?

"Cover me." is all the Queen says.

Enid feels her face heat and her heart beat faster.

"What?" The Royal rolls her eyes and takes a hand to grab Enid's arm, draping it across herself.

"Cover me." Enid nods, moves closer.

"Okay." She moves herself more and more, expecting reprimand with her every wiggle.

She's fucking cuddling her Majesty and the Royal is saying nothing of it.

Her heart is slamming her ribs, but this is too nice to let up.

She tucks her chin on her Queen's head, pressing her side against Enid's chest.

The knight feels her muscles relax, going slack and loose.

The Queen is cold, shockingly so. Like a block of ice.

"I'll... keep ya'safe, y'r Majesty..." she says sleepily.

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Enid wakes up to a body in her arms. She looks down to make sure everything is real, and the Queen has turned to her side and is snuggling back.

She carefully holds her tighter, trying to make sure she stays asleep. Enid would be executed if the Royal found out that she was being cuddled.

Enid holds her so close she can hear the other woman's heartbeat.

She's indulging herself, selfishly. Letting herself get a bit too close for a bit too long. Is it so wrong to want, though?

Ugh. She's been spending too much time with the librarian. She needs to punch a wall, or something. Maybe slam her head into a wall.

The Queen shifts, and all too suddenly Enid wonders if teleportation is possible.

"Why are you holding me?" Is the raspy whisper that questions her.

"You, uh... asked me to? To guard you, and you let me get closer 'till..." she looks at their bodies pushed together, canoodling. Platonically. "This."

The Royal blinks at her, sleepy and adorable threatening.

"Tell anyone of this," she points a finger at Enid's neck, "and I'll mount your head above my desk."

Enid mimes zipping her lips, twisting a key then throwing it away.

"Good." She hisses, snuggling back under the covers, pressing her face right into Enid's neck. "You will stay silent."

Enid has to force her jaw closed to stop herself from making a sound. Comedic timing is so good, but she'd prefer to keep her head stuck to the rest of her body, thank you very much.

She lets a hand rest on the other woman's head, the other falling to her lower back. Her hands leave the chilly skin warm under her palm and fingertips.

She shivers, because it's all so warm. Her skin is well heated and she feels so nice. It's been so long since she last had this kind of affection lathered on her.

She holds the shorter so close it feels like she's burning. She finds that it's surprisingly pleasant. She always imagined that burning would be painful.

She's warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Things feel so nice. Enid's being hugged again; a small thing, sure, but sometimes after a calm day, she'll get a tight, snug hug from the smaller lady. It's so nice.

She's been one cloud nine for the past two weeks.

"Your Majesty?" She asks.

"Yes, Enid?" The queen doesn't look up from her writing, hands flicking and looping her letters.

Enid opens her arms slightly, some part of her still worried of scorn.

"Hug?"

The queen keeps writing with her right hand, lifting her left arm up.

Enid quickly half-wraps herself around the woman, melting into the touch. It's nice.

"Do you need help writing? 'Cause, ya know, I'm your aide and all."

"Hm. I have nothing for you to aid me in. I was simply reviewing a list of corrections from my advisers." The small royal takes a paper and hands it to Enid, then a quill. "Draw a picture of whatever you wish, though."

Enid takes the paper and sits on the floor next to the queen, hunching over to place her paper on the floor.

She's by no means an artist, but she thinks the black rose she draws looks pretty good. The stem is bent and angular, the petals weird and messy, but she thinks it's nice, regardless.

She looks up and the other woman is done writing, staring down at her with this look in her eyes.

"Creeper," she says grinning, "watching me. Pervert."

"I am your superior, Enid." Her voice is about as sharp as Enid's fluff-covered ears. "You'd do well to not misspeak."

"I'm your favorite of anyone in the entire kingdom." She would never dare to have said any of this a couple of months ago, but it's comfortable now. She knows her limits. "You'd be so sad if I was gone."

"Who said you were my favorite in any regard?"

Enid feels her heart slide down in her chest, her ears drooping. She faces back to her drawing.

"Oh."

She picks her quill up, doodling a little wolf in the corner.

A boot taps her forearm.

"You understand that I was joking, yes?" Enid looks up.

"You were?" She asks, voice wobbly.

"Yes." Cold hands grab her face, thumbing under her eyes. She hadn't even notice the tears building. "You are my favorite in every regard."

"I am?" Maybe she's fishing, but it feels nice to know the royal woman likes her.

"Yes." She leans forward and presses a kiss to Enid's forehead, "my absolute favorite."

Enid nods when she pulls away, savoring the warmth's imprint on her skin.

"Do you want this?" She hands her drawing to the shorter. Small hands take the paper delicately, flipping it to observe it

"I will protect it with my life." She turns and sets it on the table, smoothing it out and gingerly folding it into a little square, then sliding it into her breast pocket.

"Well, I'm protecting you with my life, so I think ultimately I'm protecting it with my life."

"Perhaps," a hand brushes her bangs off her face. "But I would protect with my life."

"Protect what?"

"We must get going, Enid." She stands up and grabs her own sword, pointing at Enid's with her finger. "We have work in the city."

"Yes, Ma'am!" She stands up and immediately falls back down. "I stood up too fast!" She stands back up and doesn't fall this time, grabbing her sword off the queen's bed.

"Let's go!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"We should get some sheep!" Enid declares. "For blankets!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because," the woman faces away, slashing a vine with her sword, "I have you to keep me warm." She holds her arms open, waiting.

Enid squeals and scoops her up, pressing her against her chest.

"I'll keep you warm so long as you want me to!"

The smaller woman rests her head against a strong chest. Enid's voice vibrates her bones.

"Hm."

---------------------------------------------------------------

("Your Highness?"

"Yes, Eugene?"

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Why Enid? She was hardly the best choice, and our near-conflict with Barclay is over."

"Is it? Or is this all an elaborate ruse to poison me? Or you?"

"Your Majesty, I have seen how you look at her."

"I have no idea what you speak of."

"I won't say a word, just... be careful. Enid's not the best knight, but she's a good person. I'd hate to see her hurt."

"As would I.")

---------------------------------------------------------------

"We should get a blanket for us." Is all Enid says into the room while the queen writes. "That would be nice, I think."

The royal sits in her lap, her arms wrapped around her center.

"Hm. Maybe so, though I don't think that would work well." She gestures to herself, then Enid. "Our color palettes are extremely different. Pink and black would fit about as well as you and I." Enid pouts.

"I mean, I think we fit pretty well together." She rocks them slowly, subconsciously. "I think it'd be nice to have a together-blanket."

"I will look into it." She dips her quill in the inkwell. "For now, be quiet; I need to write."

Enid rests her head on the other woman's head, pouting despite the fact she can't see the knight.

"Spoil-sport." She kisses the smaller's head, mindless and uncaring.

They both stiffen, as if waiting for the other to react.

They don't react. No apologies, no sense of wrong.

Enid rests a hand on her thigh, the other on her belly.

They're warm.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay," Xavier starts in the knights quarters, "I can't be the only one to see how lovey-dovey Enid and the Queen have been, right?" He jabs a finger at the two, chatting while the Royal draws on a map.

"I mean," Yoko tilts her head side to side, not quite seeing it. "Maybe? I think Enid is just easy to get close to really fast. I guess even Royalty isn't immune to Enid's charming looks and sweet words." She sips her blood.

"I think Enid is just really nice and the Queen likes that." Is Divina's only input.

"Well," Xavier throws his hands up in exasperation. "I'm going to spy on them." He begins walking.

Ajax grabs his shoulder and stops him.

"You're going to spy on the Queen? With her appointed knight, who, while not the best in all forms, is by far the strongest, while the Queen herself has her own sword and poisoned dagger?" Ajax asks, snake wriggling under his helmet. "That Queen?"

Xavier stops and glares at the gorgon, reluctantly going back to his seat.

"Well." His jaw tightens. "Shit. Damn."

He drops back in his seat, crossing his arms. "damnit."

"I don't see why you're so upset," Yoko flies her left ring finger nail down, blowing the dust off, "it's not like you had a chance."

"I— HOW. DAR—"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"So, I believe that if we grant ourselves a few hours to explore this area," a quill drags across the forest on the map, outlining it, "we could find the resources we need and more."

Everyone is silent, looking at the situation.

"Your Majesty..."

"Yes?"

The woman that spoke lifts a hand in gesture to the issue.

"Why?"

The Queen looks at where the hand points, referring to herself in Enid's lap, arms holding her.

"She is my guard. She needs to protect me at all times. And sh—"

"And I can do that better by holding her!"

The room gets suffocating, all the air leaving and abandoning them to die.

No one speaks over the Queen.

"What she said." Is her only response. "Now." She points at a lake on the map.

"Here, I know is a valley." She marks it. "I have hope for storage buildings so more houses can go in the main city."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Enid doodles a little raven on the other woman's paper, small and in the corner. It's not like anyone will see it, so she doesn't care.

She adds a little wolf next to it, nibbling it. She giggles. She thinks the queen would like it.

She turns to face her back.

She's writing, like always.

Enid likes looking at her. She's pretty. There's freckles on her nose and cheeks, Enid noticed she has a tiny scar along her jaw.

She could give a perfect description of her.

"Enid, you're staring."

"Sorry, your Majesty," Enid lets her eyes trace the woman's nape, the outline of her shoulders under her clothing, "you're very easy to focus on."

"I would hope so. I must command the attention of any room I enter."

"Well, you do so very well."

The queen hums in appreciation, scratching her quill along the paper.

"Enid?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you still call me by my title? Surely we're close enough that you no longer feel it necessary."

"Oh..." she adds a snake, "I... never really thought about it, I guess. I always just thought of you as 'the Queen' in my mind, it never occurred to me to not call you that." She shapes a tree.

"...Do you know my name?"

"Yes!" She adds leaves.

"What is it?"

"Wednesday!" She fills in the trunk.

"Oh." She turns back to her paper. She's writing a letter of truce to Barclay. "I was hoping you wouldn't have known."

"Why?" She adds an apple.

"I would've teased you."

She gasps, and adds the apple's stem. "That's rude!"

"Hm. Would it ease my rudeness if I let you call me by my name?"

"Yes," she adds a storm cloud. "It would ease it greatly."

---------------------------------------------------------------

She holds Wednesday closer as they relax. Presses her nose into the smaller's nape, enjoying the black ink smell. There's an underlying sweetness. Like... vanilla. Enid sighs.

"Something is wrong?" Enid nuzzles her, breathing her in.

"Nope," she kisses the skin, "just sniffing you. Enjoying our lil' snug."

"Mm." She grunts, pressing back into her knight. "I enjoy our time." She says.

"I do too! You need to let me paint your nails!" She grabs her hand, looking at them.

"I'll enjoy a bright, sunny day before I allow you to put color on me."

"I mean..." she pulls Wednesday's fingers apart, inspecting them. "Who said I'd paint them any bright colors?" She folds the other woman's hand and kisses the back. "There's black nail polish in some markets in the citadel. Give me some funds..." Wednesday's face scrunches up, turning away from Enid.

"Absolutely not."

"You're smiling."

"Am not."

"Are too!" Enid kisses her shoulder. "That's why you faced away." She leans into the smaller's ear.

"You didn't want me to see it." She sing-songs. Wednesday pushes on her hand, half-heartedly shoving it off.

"I turned away because..." Enid can see her jaw tighten, looking for some snippy comment. "Shut up. That's why."

"Wow, so regal and elegant. Such queen-like behavior."

"I will kill you."

"You wouldn't kill the most competent person in your life, would you?"

"Who said you were any level of competent?"

Enid blinks, grinning.

"You did." She makes a quiet 'boop!' as she taps Wednesday's nose. "You silly goose."

"I am no avian. And I didn't say that."

"Well, not exactly that," she drags her nails down the smaller woman's back slowly. "But you said I was 'competent by comparison' so," she clicks her tongue, "y'know."

"..."

"Come to think of it, wouldn't that make you a deceiver?"

"If you tell no one," she turns to Enid, looking at her face, "I'd be very happy."

Enid leans forward, pecking Wednesday's lips.

"Let me paint your nails and I'll keep quiet."

"..."

"Fine."

"Yay!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Y'know," Enid takes the hair-brush through dark curls gently, careful to not damage any of it. "I think you should let me style your hair."

"No."

"That's what you said about your nails!" She takes a section of hair, beginning to braid it. "And look at you now."

"You might have been right on my nails —also, you need to repaint them soon— but my hair is too noticeable to be changed without a reasonable explanation."

"Aw." Enid whines. She finishes off one braid, starting on the next.

"Couldn't the 'reasonable explanation' be that you love me?" She grabs a tie. "Could it be you don't love me?" She says, voice fake-dramatic.

Wednesday goes quiet as Enid begins the other braid, feeling the silkiness on her fingertips.

"Wednesday?" She makes a twist, "did I say the wrong thing?"

"I do love you." Her voice is stony. Hurt. "Did I fall to show you that?"

"No!" Enid walks in front of her, leaning down, "I know you love me. I was joking, Wednesday." She sees her shoulders loosen.

"Good." She sighs softly, "I was worried I didn't express it well enough."

"Any expression of love is enough from you, Honey." She walks back to behind Wednesday, actually starting on her hair this time.

"Is it?"

"Of course," she leans down and kisses her head, "because I know it means you trust me."

"Mm. Maybe I should fear for our relationship in front of you more often, if it means you call me Honey."

Enid drops the half-finished braid in her hand, yelping.

"What?! I didn't call you Honey!"

"But you did."

"Didn't! I called you... funny?"

"Sure you did, dear."

"Ah! See! You called me dear."

"I absolutely did, dear."

Enid drops the braid again, collapsing.

"Wednesday!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I'm starting to think Xavier was right for once." Ajax stares at the Queen, sitting in Enid's lap and facing her, talking together. "That does seem a lil' sweet and loving, dudn't?"

"I can see it." Divina nods, watching as her Majesty gets up and walks into a different room, Enid trailing her. "I still think the Queen is just happy to have someone be close to her without an ulterior motive. I'd be pretty buddy-buddy if I was her."

"Oh, so when Ajax says it, it's a good point, but when I say it I'm jealous?" Xavier glares at Divina, "bullshit."

"I wouldn't think Ajax is jealous of a lesbian couple," Yoko looks at Xavier like he's stupid, "considering, y'know." She lowers her glasses to look him in the eye.

"He's a homosexual himself." She drinks her blood. "Plus, they're holding each other, and they weren't doing that when you said it."

Xavier mumbles Yoko's words back to her in an annoying voice.

"Annoying-ass..." he grumbles.

"Nuh uh." Yoko sticks her tongue out childishly.

Xavier stands up and draws his sword, entirely intent on killing her.

"FUCK YOU MEAN 'NUH UH'?!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

Enid feels her hands shaking as she holds her roses.

She's about to ask the Queen on a date. Something that goes against royal law, and, if declined, could result in her being executed.

She waits for her Superior to get back, having been told to wait in the Royal's room. Something about Enid not being privy to information, and needing to wait.

She hates it. The black roses burn her hands and make her itchy feeling. She wonders if maybe she should leave. Run away. Change her name.

She giggles, nervously, imagining herself changing her name to Rose.

She doesn't think it would fit her. Maybe a color?

"Orange," she says to herself, laughing, "Imma name myself Orange."

"Don't ever change your name. It suits you far too much."

"AH!" Enid almost throws her flowers in surprise, yelping.

"Your Majesty! What are you doing— back so early?"

"The meeting ended sooner than expected, so I thought I would come back." She turns to her chair, pulling it out and sitting down. "Though, I would've stayed the extra time if I didn't hear you saying you would name yourself Orange."

Enid tightens her hold on the roses, licking her lips.

"Uh." She shakes the flowers, catching the Royal's attention. "Rose."

They both blink at each other, like deer staring at an actively flying arrow.

"Rose." She nods. Enid feels like death would be so nice. "Why?"

"Flower." Enid can feel tears in the corners of her eyes, but she keeps smiling because if she doesn't, she will break down. "Red."

"Are you alright?" The Queen reaches and presses a cold hand to her forehead. "You don't feel hot..."

"You." Enid's teeth press so hard it hurts. "Flowers."

"Do you need a moment?" Enid nods and swallows, turning away from her.

She takes exactly three deep breaths, then turns back.

"Flowers." She's shaking. "For you."

"Oh." The Royal takes them from Enid's hand, clutching them softly. "Thank you. I'll need to get water." She turns to place them in the pot that she doesn't own.

"And a pot."

"Date."

The smaller woman turns back. "Pardon?"

"Flowers. For date." She forces out. "Me?"

Her Superior stares at her for a long, long few seconds. Enid considers jumping out of the window.

"You... wish to romantically court me?"

"Yes." Enid whimpers like a hurt animal. "I want that."

"Then I agree." Wednesday stares at her, thoroughly unimpressed. "Is it that hard to simply ask me out? I thought you'd be braver than that."

"You scared me and you're so pretty, and I was worried I'd be executed in the town square—"

Wednesday lifts a hand, stopping Enid before she gets going.

"Why on Earth would you be executed?"

"'Cause... that's what happens to people who ask out royals and get rejected, ain't it?"

"No? Who told you this?"

Enid looks at her feet, weighing the pros and cons.

"Xavier..." she mumbles.

"Ugh." Wednesday groans, "remind me to kill him."

"What?! No!"

"I think he deserves it."

"But he's my friends' friend. They'd be sad. So, I'd be sad."

The smaller woman sighs, and hugs Enid close.

"Fine."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Enid takes her to a cliff, overlooking a gorgeous little patch of forest, a large lake in the center.

Wednesday has her head in Enid's lap, enjoying the werewolf's hand stroking her unbraided hair.

"This is... perfect, Enid." Wednesday presses up into the hand rubbing her hair.

"I'm glad!" Enid leans down and kisses the top of her head. "I stole a map to find this place!"

Wednesday laughs, a from-the-chest sound. Enid feels herself fall deeper in love.

"You—" a giggle "—you shouldn't tell the Queen Herself of your crime, Enid."

The knight leans down, covering Wednesday from the sun.

"Oh, but the queen won't turn me in for my crimes."

Wednesday pushes up.

"Oh, but she would. She took an oath to never allow crime."

Enid hunches further until their lips are almost touching.

"Oh, but I think the queen loves me too much."

Wednesday glares, the effect ruined by her smiling.

"I can't argue there." She presses their lips together.

She drags her nails lightly across Wednesday's scalp, grinning when the other woman groans softly.

"You like it when I scratch your head?"

"Yes." She pushes into Enid's nails, melting. "Very much."

"Aw. You're just a lil' black cat, aren't you?" Enid starts scratching her jaw, cooing. "Just a lil' guy, can't hurt no one. Pretty girl."

"I'm not an animal, mutt."

"D'aw, does Kitty got claws? Huh?" Enid scratches down her chest. "Lil' baby. Dumby."

"I am not an infant, nor unintelligent, Sinclair." She pouts and flips on her side, ignoring Enid.

Enid pokes her cheek with a finger, giggling at the jutting-out lips.

"You're pouting." She sings, teasingly. "You don't like being called a kitten? Huh? Lil' baby."

"I am no infant, Enid." She glares at the finger poking her. "And if you don't stop poking me, I'll bite your finger."

"Go ahead, it won't hurt." She places her finger right to Wednesday's mouth.

"It will if I bite it off." Enid pulls her finger back just as Wednesday chomps. She can hear the other woman's teeth click.

"Wednesday!" She puts her hand on her chest, fake-hurt. "How could you? After everything we've been through?!" She wipes a finger under her eye.

Her finger is completely dry.

"What have we been through, though?" Wednesday rolls back. "Nothing dangerous has happened."

"This whole me-guarding-you thing happened because of a threat." Enid pushes the smaller woman's hair being her ear, admiring her jaw. "You never told me what happened. Are we still in a near-war with the Barclay kingdom?"

Wednesday's eyes get huge and remind Enid even more of a black cat. She rolls onto her side.

"Wednesday?"

Wednesday starts to fake snoring; a loud, nasally noise.

"Wednesday!" Enid shakes her shoulder, giggling at her silliness. "What happened?" She gasps falsely, and covers her mouth. "Did Bianca die?"

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"...our conflict ended almost immediately."

"Wha?"

"I received a letter of temporary truce after we got back from finding the apple trees."

"That was, like... two weeks into me guarding you. I've been guarding you for four months." Enid narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Enid, we must go back to the castle." Wednesday stands up and starts walking away, back to their horses. "I feel deathly ill."

Enid grabs her wrist and yanks her down, pulling the smaller woman into her arms.

"No, you don't. Tell me why."

Wednesday stares at her for a moment, then tries to escape like a trapped dog. Making the same noises, too.

When that doesn't work, she slumps and looks down.

"I..." she looks at Enid's arm. "I liked having you around. You made things... better. For me."

"Wednesday..." she leans down and kisses her jaw, melting at her words. "You don't need to hide that you love me, from me. I like hearing that."

"I need you to feel safe around me." She doesn't look at Enid; staring at the grass. "How can I make you feel protected if I'm weak?"

"Firstly, I'm your guard—" she boops her nose, "—and secondly, I feel safer when you're open. It means we have no reason to hide ourselves."

"Hm." Wednesday presses against Enid's arm, and this time the knight lets her get up

"Can we go back to the castle, though?" Wednesday offers her a hand. "I'd like to be held."

Enid takes her hand and pulls her down, picking her up into a bridal carry as she stands up.

"I get to carry you." She says smugly.

Wednesday snuggles into her chest, against the soft shirt she wears.

"Okay."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Enid pushes Wednesday face into her neck, smiling at the way the other wraps her arms around the knight.

The werewolf rubs slow, calming circles on her back, feeling the fine texture of silk against her fingertips.

"Wednesday? You awake?"

"Yes, Enid. Why do you ask?"

"Nothin', just wanted to see." She leans down and kisses dark hair. "I love you, you know? So sweet. And nice. And pretty. So pretty."

"I'm pleased to hear my genes make you happy, Sinclair."

Enid grabs her leg and slides her up, staring her in the eyes when they're eye-level.

"Y'know, you said I shouldn't change my name from Enid—"

"And you shouldn't."

"—but you never said anything about changing my last name."

Wednesday hums and closes her eyes, adorably sleepy.

"And what would you change it to, if I let you?" She nips at Enid's jaw.

"Addams."

Wednesday's eyes pop open.

"What?"

"I'd change it to Addams." She kisses the other's forehead. "If you'd let me."

"Did you just... propose?"

"Yes."

The smaller woman stares unblinkingly at her, shocked.

"It's too late for this conversation. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay, Wednesday."

"I love you, Enid."

"I love you too, Sweetheart."

-Writer Anon.

I'm finally awake, took a quick power nap while my phone charged and I think I'm sick

But it don't MATTER BC THE WENCLAIR??

Yknow what this all makes me think? That Wednesday fell first. You're telling me, she chooses not to have the best guard to protect her for totally normal reasons? Despite being known as pragmatic? Mmm okay

Totally normal behavior, totally not pining or anything that would be ubsurd

And then the slow thawing of professional and unprofessional makes my heart absolutely soft. I see a pattern in your works tho, that one bed? 😏 Ik what you are writer anon, Ik what you are

The lil comments from the nevermore gang always makes me laugh, I do love seeing Wenclair through other people's lenses, absolute delight to see how either odd or nauseatingly sweet they must be

Enid being so nervous to ask Wednesday out for a date despite being the only one to interrupt the queen, gets to cuddle wednesday and overall be personal.. Man, I totally understand, it's alright Enid we have all been there

The whole work is just.. So fluffy man, no wonder I passed out great after reading it

Yknow it's a great piece of work when it reminds me of how single I am like FUCKKK, WHEN IS IT MY TURN

Also Wednesday being cheeky enough to fake snore after Enid asked what happened with the whole Barclay thing is very funny, thank you for that

#Writer anon #Wenclair #Writing #YALL NEED TO READ THISS #Favorite fic? This one rk #This is my favorite fic #Ay of writer anons work is my favorite

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ladylilithprime · 4 months

Text

Title: Diplomatic Measures

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sastiel, Sabriel, eventual CaSaBriel

Rating: General

Word Count: 5095

Summary: Sam Winchester was taking a Saturday breather to read just for the enjoyment of it when a pair of no longer dead Angels come calling with an offer he absolutely could refuse but doesn't want to.

Tags/Warnings: Post-Series Pre-Finale, Discussion of Previous Major Character Death, References to Past Trauma

Created For: SPN Pro-Ship Bang / @spnproshipbang

Author: LadyShadowphyre / @ladylilithprime

Artist: sidewinder / @hawkland

Read on AO3 | Official Art Post

ON A TYPICAL Saturday, or really any day of the week when the residents of the old bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, were home and not off to some other corner of the country on a case, Sam Winchester could usually be reliably found sitting in the bunker's library and one or more of the lore books in his hands. Sometimes it was research for a case, sometimes it was updating records after a case, but frequently it was just reading for the sake of learning. The Men of Letters had some fascinating research, as well as some terrifying research, and even the fiction books they chose to include were a lot less fiction than the majority of the human population believed. While Dean was much more comfortable spending his downtime in more obviously fictional media when he wasn't spending some quality time tuning up the Impala, Sam found the real fantastical to be just as engaging and, he hoped, more helpful down the line in their field of work.

He had just settled in with a book about faeries, privately wishing that he and Dean had had access to this book years ago, when the stillness of the library was interrupted by the unfamiliar familiarity of wingbeats. Given the wards on the bunker and the fact that the alarms didn't even flicker, Sam was able to keep his sudden burst of alertness from turning into true alarm, but he was still putting down his book and halfway through reaching for a weapon by the time the winged visitors spoke.

"Sam--"

"Hey, Samalam--"

The two angels stopped and eyed each other uncertainly as Sam processed what he was seeing, weapons forgotten. It was Gabriel, looking stronger and healthier than he had been the last time Sam remembered seeing him, standing with a self-assurance that Sam hadn't seen from him since that fraught confrontation in a mystical hotel what felt like a lifetime ago. Beside him stood Castiel, looking younger than he had, physically much like he had appeared when they had first met despite the more at ease posture, as if the years of hardship and Falling and being human had been wiped away from his vessel without touching the mark those years had left upon the angel himself.

And they were here. Alive.

"Is it okay to hug you both?" Sam blurted out, already rising from his chair. Even if they said no, anything that had two previously dead and newly resurrected angels showing up in front of him was probably going to require standing, but damn if Sam didn't really, really want to hug them.

Castiel was the first to open his arms, no doubt because he was the more used to offering and receiving hugs when it involved Sam, but Gabriel was quick to do the same. Two long strides had Sam close enough to hug them, one arm going around each angel and feeling the solid weight of them both along with the familiar zip and crackle of Grace just beneath the surface. Gabriel tensed up a little at first, but he relaxed surprisingly quickly, melting into Sam just as much as Castiel was. Sam let himself indulge in just getting to hold them both for a long moment, reimprinting the scent and sound and feel of them both, physical and metaphysical.

Eventually, when he had managed to convince his brain that this was real and both Castiel and Gabriel were really here, Sam made himself loosen his grip on the pair. The slackened hold drew twin sighs from the angels, and neither of them appeared to be in a hurry to pull away, so Sam made himself ignore that insidious little voice trying to tell him he shouldn't be forcing the angels to endure contact with him and let his hands settle on their shoulders as he drew back enough to see their faces.

"So, uh, in case it wasn't obvious, I'm very glad to see you both," he said, swallowing down the lump of emotion that kept trying to form in his throat.

Castiel's expression brightened, apparently glad of the verbal confirmation despite the hugging, and Sam mentally resolved to reinforce the idea that the angel was welcome for as long as he could be there. Gabriel's expression, however, underwent a rapid shuffle through several different emotions too quickly for Sam to follow before settling on concerned. "What's wrong?"

Sam blinked. "Nothing? Well, I mean, there's probably something going wrong for someone somewhere, but I don't know about it."

"That is good to hear," Castiel offered, glancing at Gabriel, who frowned.

"Nothing's wrong?" Gabriel repeated, glancing around the room. "Where's Dean-o, then?"

"In the garage giving the Impala a spa day," Sam answered, lips twitching at the smacked-with-a-fish expression that crossed Gabriel's face. "Full wax, leather conditioning, and detailing. I stopped listening when he started muttering about finding the tiny brushes. Did you want me to go get him, or...?"

"Perhaps later," Castiel said, when Gabriel continued to just stare. "While I am sure Dean would appreciate being informed of our renewed existence at some point, now is perhaps not the best time to invite the inevitable awkwardness and shouting."

"So long as you don't leave it too long," Sam cautioned, before fixing Castiel with a stern look, "And seriously, Cas, you gotta quit using 'I love you' to mean 'goodbye', dude. That was the third time! He's developing a complex about it."

"Kinda thought that would've been reason for you to go to Dean first, bro," Gabriel drawled, eyeing Castiel in a way that made Sam very aware of a second conversation going on beneath the spoken words, and of the way neither angel had let go of him any more than he had released them.

"The awkwardness of dealing with the aftermath of how I left things with Dean is precisely why I chose not to seek him out first," Castiel said evenly. "While I would hope he would know better than to misconstrue the meaning behind my words at the time, unlike so many of our siblings, speaking with Dean about emotional topics is... delicate."

"And will probably require alcohol," Sam chimed in with a sigh. "He's getting better about it, but then we're both still sorting out exactly how much of ourselves is really us rather than how Chuck wrote us to be."

They had already noticed certain differences. Sam still focused more on eating healthy and avoided certain foods, but Dean was less resistant to the vegetables that became increasingly present in their meals. Sam, too, had noticed that he had less aversion to baked goods, and had even managed to pull up some of Jess's recipes from the far corner of his laptop hard drive to start baking again. The grief was still there, but it bit at him less sharply without Chuck prodding the wound for his entertainment.

"So, you two had a reason to come find me specifically?" he asked, forcefully dragging the conversation away from that road for now. Castiel and Gabriel exchanged another heavy look, and Sam heard the faint rustle of feathers. "And I take it everyone's wings have been restored, since you flew in here?"

"We probably should have knocked," Castiel murmured.

"Guests knock," Gabriel argued. "We're still residents, or at least I assume so since the wards didn't kick us out."

"You're both still keyed into the wards," Sam confirmed, mentally shying away from the reason for that. No use unkeying someone who's dead, and no reason to put up anti-angel wards with Jack having promised to keep Heaven's business contained to Heaven. Which brought him back to why Castiel and Gabriel were here. "Animal, vegetable, mineral, celestial, or infernal?"

"What?" Gabriel blinked, just as Castiel said, "Celestial. Partially animal."

"Okay, then... human, angel, vessel, or nephilum?" Sam followed up. At Gabriel's slightly strangled noise, he added, "There's only so many situations that can be attributed to both celestial and animal, and intent to be hands off or not I kinda figured Jack knows Dean and I are willing to be on-call for the things that slip through the cracks. Technically."

"There should not be any further instances of angels taking human vessels," Castiel said at length. Gabriel grimaced, but nodded.

"Kid wasn't wrong about how skeevy and disruptive it is," he said, sighing. "While the practice was originally meant to allow angels to have the counsel of their vessel's life experience and cultural understanding when down here on assignment, that part of the deal apparently got deliberately forgotten when Mike and Raph started ramping up the early Apocalypse in favor of just using the human's soul as a back-up battery for their own power. Even the angels like Cassie here who tried to learn about human culture anyway didn't always understand what they learned. So now, any angels who're gonna be spending a lot of time on Earth get custom-tailored vessels. Ta-da!" he added, with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I thought you were a little taller than I remembered," Sam teased lightly.

"Just because you grew up to be a Samsquatch," Gabriel started, breaking off with a grunt when Castiel shifted very slightly. He gave the seraph an incredulous look. "Did you seriously just--"

"It felt both appropriate and pertinent," Castiel interrupted dryly. Returning his attention visibly to Sam, he went on, "As you no doubt suspect, creating a custom vessel that does not need to be sustained by a human soul but will also hold up to the strain of containing the essence of an angel - or Archangel - is a rather energy-intensive and time-consuming process. To that end, those of us who had previously maintained a lengthy and consistent presence on Earth were given priority to allow us to establish ourselves and create an appropriate orientation center for any other angels required to be on Earth interacting with people. And yes, I am aware of the irony of my being considered most knowledgeable in how to interact with people," he added.

"Don't give yourself so little credit, Cas," Sam said, squeezing the seraph's shoulder gently. "For having had to figure it out largely on your own with only what little, inconsistent help Dean and I have been, you've done an amazing job. And I'm sorry we weren't better help to you when you needed us most."

"Extenuating circumstances," Castiel excused delicately, no doubt not wanting to bring up Gadreel and Dean's complicity in the deception and Castiel's banishment from their sides. Gabriel was looking less than happy but unsurprised, which probably meant he had either been informed about the situation or was reading Sam's mind. To test that, Sam quickly cycled his thoughts through the latest of Jess's recipes he'd been looking at, which caused Gabriel to hum and Castiel to look abashed. "Apologies, Sam. Our current situation and continued proximity is making it difficult to respect your mental privacy as much as we all would usually prefer."

"I'll let it slide for now," Sam murmured, catching the implication. "You were saying?"

"Yes, well," Castiel's eyes darted to the side away from Gabriel before going back to determinedly meeting Sam's. "Part of establishing ourselves on Earth and creating an orientation center is finding appropriate human partners. To help keep us in touch with the culture about which we are meant to instruct our brethren when they come down." He shifted, and Sam felt the hand the seraph still had resting on his back curl to grip his shirt. "While the nature of this partnership and the accompanying bond is not required to be romantic or sexual in nature, I trust you understand why I would choose to broach the subject with you first before speaking to your brother."

"Um," Sam managed intelligently. Yeah, he could understand why Castiel might want to hold off on talking to Dean about something like that, especially with the mention of a bond. It was hardly a secret that Dean had issues with intimacy and commitment, and after so many years and a bored God making them dance around for his amusement it was safe to say that Dean's issues had issues. Sam, at least, had been "lucky" enough to be the consistently emotionally self-aware one between the two of them and so had less of his own psychology to actively question or attempt to rewrite. Hearing words like "partnership" and "bond" didn't cause Sam the same level of panic he knew Dean would feel.

Nor was it at all unexpected that Castiel would choose to come to them to form those bonds, however undeserving they might feel of being chosen. Eleven years was a long time for a human, and Castiel's perceptions of time and humanity had undergone several changes during those eleven years. His attachment to the Winchesters had also undergone changes, but had remained fairly constant despite Naomi's best efforts, or so Castiel had told Sam once. It didn't surprise Sam that Castiel would come to him and Dean for such a partnership. It barely surprised him that Castiel would come to Sam first.

What did surprise him was Gabriel.

"Hell, Sambala, it's not like I spent a lot of time hanging out with a bunch humans knowing who and what I am," the Archangel huffed, avoiding his eyes when Sam looked at him. "You and Deanmeister are pretty much the closest I've got to friends left down here. Sure, I could probably go out, find someone to hook up with, but whether I could actually open up to them enough to bond like that... At least you know the history I've got, and if you say no then I'm no worse off than before."

"I see," Sam mumbled. And he did see. There was a lot of drama and upheaval and tragedy in Gabriel's history, things that made it difficult to open up to people. Sam had been there for some of that history, or been there for the aftermath and heard the stories. They had a connection, had since that case years ago in Ohio where Gabriel had led a pair of experienced but painfully naive hunters on a merry chase, even tried to make friends in his awkward way. Sam knew there was probably a lot that he didn't know, but apparently Gabriel trusted him to know it or to let Gabriel share it in his own time.

He also didn't seem to expect Sam to agree, but had still been surprised by Castiel's presence when they had arrived. And neither of them had left, or let go of Sam. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Tell me about these bonds. I'm guessing there's nothing preventing you from having bonds to multiple humans if Cas was looking for me with the idea of talking to Dean later. Are the humans restricted to bonding with just one angel?"

"Kinky," Gabriel drawled, waggling his eyebrows again. "Looking to start an angel harem, Samnykins?"

"Not sure two really counts as a harem, Gabrielicious," Sam deadpanned, getting a startled look from Gabriel in response. More seriously, Sam went on, "Look, whatever your reasons, you both came to me and I'm not going to turn either of you away. I missed you both."

I mourned you both. Again, he thought silently, unable to push the words past his throat but still needing to convey them. From the way both angels shifted closer, he could tell they heard it.

"There is no limit to the number of bonds permitted save in the compatibility of all individuals," Castiel murmured. "Monogamy is a human convention meant for tracking the lineage of children prior to science developing to the point of DNA testing, and is quite unnecessary in our case."

"Cassie's one of the few angels I can even relate to anymore, and I already figured we'd end up sharing space," Gabriel shrugged. "If he can put up with having me around, I'm fine with sharing."

"We're figuring out a different way of explaining it to Dean, though," Sam warned, getting understanding nods in return. "Anything else I should probably know about this before I agree?"

"Look at you, learning to get all the info before jumping in feet first," Gabriel cooed. This time, his jerk in response to whatever Castiel did put him in range for Sam to flick his ear. "Hey!"

"Nothing's broken and the world isn't ending," Sam said dryly. "I don't actually have to make a snap decision based on limited available information this time, and I do remember certain conversations about angelic bonds. Eternal commitment isn't something you just jump into or we'd be having this conversation in Vegas."

"We still could," Gabriel pointed out. His shoulders slumped at the looks both Sam and Castiel shot him. "Okay, no, we couldn't. Your brother would break out the holy oil to deep fry us if he didn't get to attend your wedding."

"So this is more along the lines of a marriage bond?" Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing between Castiel's sudden bashful look and Gabriel's unrepentant smirk.

"Hey, you're the one who brought up Vegas," the Archangel said. Sam just looked at him, and eventually Gabriel rolled his eyes. "It's more like an engagement than anything, at least for us. I'm not gonna make any promises when it comes to you and Cassie, though, especially given how thoroughly entangled he's been with you and your big bro the last decade."

"Those bonds would have been broken with my death," Castiel pointed out without inflection. Sam felt the very slight tremble in his frame and squeezed again. "The entity would have wanted to ensure that I had nothing tethering me to life any longer."

"That just means when you reestablish the bonds they could snap back into place even stronger," Gabriel pointed out. He shifted slightly, and Castiel's eyes fluttered closed before going wide to look at Gabriel. The Archangel smiled wryly at the seraph. "Can't fool me, baby brother. That's the real reason you came to Sam first, isn't it?"

"Is that not why you came to Sam first yourself, brother?" Castiel responded archly. Sam was once again aware of another layer of conversation taking place between the two angels, like a static feedback against his nerves. To his surprise, all humor fled from Gabriel's expression as he turned very serious.

"I was always going to come to Sam first," he admitted with the weight of confession. "Dean's easy enough to build a rapport with on the surface, but that's as deep as it goes. For a real bond, it was always going to be Sam." Then, like a light switch being flipped, the smirk was back. "Plus, as volatile as the Dean Machine was last I knew, I'd just as soon wait and see how his psychology is gonna shake out now before I trust him to get all up in my feathers. They need a delicate touch, you know!"

As if a skilled mechanic like Dean would not have a delicate enough touch for an angel's wings. Sam kept that thought silent where it could be ignored by the angels as he rather suspected that it wasn't the capability of Dean's hands to manage delicacy that was in question.

And then the full impact of the implications hit Sam and he found himself clutching at the angels' shoulders to keep himself from falling over or sinking to the floor as his vision tunneled. He vaguely heard what sounded like a yelp from Gabriel around the roaring in his ears as strong arms hurriedly went around him from two directions. The vague awareness he had of that skittering electric Grace grew stronger, enveloping him in buzzing bees and crashing waves.

Is this another dream? Sam wondered, closing his eyes and holding on to Castiel and Gabriel for dear life as he struggled to push past the dizziness and the magnitude threatening to sweep him under. Did I fall asleep and dream you both back to life again and that's why you're here offering me everything I ever could have imagined wanting?

"Breathe, Sam," Castiel's voice rumbled close to his ear, and Sam struggled to obey, to draw in a deep breath that filled his nose with the scents of petrichor and sage and candyfloss thick enough to drown in. "You are awake. I am here. Gabriel is here. We are real. We are alive."

"We love you, kiddo, honest," Gabriel's voice echoed, just a little further away, a whisper of breath against the skin of Sam's throat where his shirt collar opened. "Not a trick or a prank or a goodbye. No obligation, no time constraints, no need to choose between us or anything else dumb and limiting like that."

Sam trembled. Swallowed. "Can I... can I look at you?"

"All you gotta do is open your eyes," Gabriel answered, but there was a note of confusion in his voice, like he couldn't understand why Sam would ask such a thing.

Castiel understood better, if the sharply indrawn breath was anything to go by, and his voice held a note of urgency when he said, "Take it slowly. We are at full strength again and will be considerably brighter than when you last looked upon either of us."

"Oh, sh--" Gabriel cut himself off on the realization as Sam's hold on both angels tightened and he let down his mental walls, all the shields and barriers he had built to try and keep his powers in and other beings out, then gingerly opened his eyes.

Bright was an understatement. Staring directly into the sun would have seemed dim in comparison to the brilliant aurora that filled his vision, a clashing kaleidoscope of colorful energy patterns that swirled and danced together and apart, contained to each separate angelic sphere even as they reached across the barriers to entwine together with each other. Sam squinted into the brightness as he let his eyes adjust physically and metaphysically, the tears gathering in his eyes from seeing and recognizing the way those tendrils of angelic energy were reaching out to him as well, not as an invasion but as a supplication.

They really, truly, honestly wanted him, were practically yearning for him, and yet still they were leaving it up to him to say that they were welcome.

"Sam," the glowing form to his right resonated with the sounds of crashing waves and trumpeting horns. "Sammy, hey, dial it back a notch, kiddo, your eyeballs are starting to smoke."

"Can we not 'dial it back' for him?" came the voice to his left that echoed with tolling church bells and screaming crows amid the hiss of rain. A moment later the harshly glowing figure to his left became softer and less focused and yet somehow more solid. Sam caught the flurry of color from his right before that form, too, became both more condensed and more diffuse at once, easing the strain on his eyes and awareness.

With that lessening of brightness and pressure, Sam became aware of the fact that his eyes burned and his skull was practically splitting open from the pounding headache. Quickly, he began pulling up walls and barriers, one after another, until he could look at Castiel and Gabriel again and see their new, chosen vessels with only the hinted afterimages of their respective halos and the shifting, rustling expanses of full-fledged, whole and healthy wings, Castiel's two leftmost wings brushing and entwined with the three rightmost wings of Gabriel's set, the other five wings reaching out to embrace Sam without actually touching him, a silent and intangible offer of their support and trust.

"Are you sure?" Sam mumbled, then felt like kicking himself. They were angels, a seraph and an Archangel, older than Time! They knew better than he could even begin to imagine what "forever" meant, and yet he still couldn't stop himself from asking. From making sure that they had really thought about this, being bound to him, for eternity.

"Been sure since Ohio, Samaluscious," Gabriel answered with a crooked grin that didn't quite conceal the edge of pain and shadows haunting that humor with the ache of a mystery spot in Broward County, Florida. "Kinda gave up on the possibility for a while there, figured I'd blown my chances sky high. I mean, even your phenomenal capabilities for forgiveness had to have a limit, right?"

"I trust you have learned better since then," Castiel remarked in a dry tone, the feathers of his wings rustling with smugness. "After all, you have not harmed or betrayed Sam or Dean as cruelly and thoroughly as I have had occasion to do, and if Sam can find it in his heart to forgive me..."

"Yeah, well, he loves you," Gabriel huffed, eyes darting away. "Even traumatized and half-comatose, I could feel that. Yeah, you did a lot of shit, but you also stuck around to make up for it. Me, on the other hand..."

"You were deprived of the opportunity to either remain or return to Sam's side," Castiel pointed out with that same delicate bluntness he had used to refer to his and Sam's shared traumas. "We cannot know now what may have happened if you had been afforded the opportunity, not for certain, but you and I both know well the pull of Sam's soul on those willing to see."

"Oh, yeah..." Gabriel all but purred, golden eyes slanting up through darker golden lashes to look at Sam. Sam felt his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at the literally glowing intensity of that gaze, more than aware that the Archangel was taking the opportunity to get his own peep show at what Sam kept beneath the bounds of his physical body, just as Sam had been looking at him and Castiel before. He let him look, figuring it was only fair, and tried not to fidget in discomfort over being so thoroughly seen, every sharp edge and scar and shadow on display, more exposed to his angels' sight than he'd ever felt buck naked.

"Beautiful," Castiel murmured, soft and insistent close to Sam's ear before lightly chapped lips brushed the stubble-roughened line of his jaw in an unmistakable kiss.

"Like looking at kintsugi marble given life and breath to speak its history like a poet to a lover," Gabriel hummed in agreement, leaning in to press his own kiss to the rightmost just of bone at Sam's clavicle, his nose brushing Sam's throat as he swallowed. The Archangel once called the Messenger of God certainly had a way with words! "Don't ever think the damage you've survived makes you less than glorious, Samazing."

"I'll have to work on that," Sam muttered, unwilling to lie to them and say he believed them, not when he knew he didn't, but more than willing to try now that he knew there would be no more divine puppet master pulling his strings to keep him from healing the wounds on his heart and soul. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "How do we do this, then?"

"So, I'm not sure what Cassie's plan was gonna be," Gabriel started, and Sam felt more than saw the shift of one golden-edged teal wing nudging up into iridescent rainbow-brushed black, "but assuming you didn't laugh in my face or something at the suggestion I was thinking of taking you out on a date. Nothing fancy or over the top, not this time, just someplace new to explore without the excuse or distraction of a hunt or a fight for your life."

"I, too, had something similar in mind," Castiel admitted. "Perhaps a walk through the woods that surrounds the bunker, investigating some of the terrain we had not yet ventured into the past few years?"

"That sounds nice," Sam agreed, privately thinking that it also sounded safe in case Dean came looking for him and didn't take the note he planned to leave on the table beside his book at face value. He hesitated, biting his lower lip in indecision.

"You can tell him we're alive," Gabriel said with an air of resigned humor. "Neither of us expected you to keep that a secret from him. Just say we came to you because we had a more diplomatic situation going on and we'll be around to catch up with him later when the time crunch is more relaxed."

"Nice and vague and plausible," Sam snorted softly, but smiled. It took a few more long seconds and a stern mental reminder to himself that they wouldn't disappear on him the moment he let go for Sam to unwind his arms from around them and pull away enough to scribble the intended note on a clean sheet of notebook paper. Making sure that the notebook was positioned nicely visible on the table with the edge of his book pinning down the loose edge of the paper just enough to keep it from flipping over without obscuring it, Sam straightened up and turned back to the angels - his angels, soon, and potentially more - and reached out his hands to them, smiling a little helplessly when they both immediately reached back to clasp his hands in theirs. "So, going on a walk in the woods outside isn't far, but if you'd rather fly us out there..."

"You don't mind?" Gabriel's eyebrows went up.

"Eleven years I've been around Cas, and known you for longer," Sam reminded him. "I never had the same... difficulty with angel flight that Dean does, and even humans have a thing about when a limb that was broken is finally healed and useable again we can't help but want to use it a lot."

"Fair enough," Gabriel nodded, then looked at Castiel. "You lead. Since you suggested the woods, I bet you know just where to start."

"I promise not to drop you," Castiel deadpanned, smirking when Gabriel actually groaned.

"This is the thanks I get for restoring your memories," he lamented, shaking his head theatrically to Sam's amusement. Then he smirked, stepping closer to Sam's side. "I'll just hold on nice and tight to Sammykins here, since I know you won't dare drop him in a frozen ravine."

"Of course not," Castiel said in an affronted tone as he settled himself against Sam's side in mirror to Gabriel. "It's summer, after all."

A strong beat of dark wings, a twist of celestial energy, and the three of them disappeared from the library, leaving only the echo of Sam's laughter to mark their presence.

-End-

#rk writes #supernatural fic #sastiel #sabriel #casabriel #sam winchester #castiel #gabriel #wings #angelic true forms

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