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blue_bells» Title: Once the rage in me subsides
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: Schmoop
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Jimmy/Adam/Nick
» Summary: When the din rose enough for them to rest within its motion and forget themselves, to sit and be present, they could be still. They could just be.
» A/N: I hit a block for my big bang today and decided to try writing something different to bring the words back. Thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ravenspear who requested Jimmy/Adam/Nick; comfort.
They go to Starbucks because Adam asks for coffee and he blows on his cup as they huddle at their table in the corner, even though Adam’s order was to go. His shoulders are hunched, collar up to shield as much of his neck from the outside breeze that’s cooling with the change in seasons. He stares right through Nick who sits opposite him and Nick would actually believe that nothing was going through Adam’s mind at that moment.
That was the entire purpose of the venture: when the din rose enough for them to rest within its motion and forget themselves, to sit and be present, they could be still. They could just be.
It’s why he and Jimmy follow Adam to these cafes, even though they never order anything themselves.
Jimmy and Adam sit close enough their thighs and elbows brush when Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He studies the same sachets of sugar and sweetener each time they come here. Nick’s hands are buried in the pockets of his jacket, too thin for this weather, but he’ll have to wait for a few more pay checks until he can consider something warmer.
Nick takes them to bars where he and Jimmy order a tall glass of whatever’s on tap. They watch the season’s games blare on the wall-set televisions as Adam pushes bowls of fries at them. But the bars are cold, sticky, and for some reason spilled beer makes Nick think too easily of blood these days. It doesn’t make much sense.
Eventually they start buying beer and bringing it straight back to the apartment.
Jimmy doesn’t have a venue of choice: he likes people. Jimmy’s only wish is to be with people while amongst other people and he won’t venture out alone.
“Standing beside strangers with their own destinations and company is sometimes worse than staying by myself,” he said once.
So, they go where the people go, drifting through malls, parks and museums, eating confection at weekend fairs just to watch the light bounce off stranger’s faces, and sometimes they even sit outside office buildings with breakfast to watch the workers rush into their hive.
“Does it help watching these people live their own lives?” Nick asks Jimmy one day because Adam’s especially grumpy, still hungry after breakfast and hunched from the cold, and Nick isn’t sure they should let Jimmy continue this.
“No,” Jimmy says, surprising him. Jimmy’s face is carefully controlled when he meets Nick’s eye. “I thought it would help me remembering what it used to be like. But, actually… it’s worse.”
“Can we please go inside?” Adam grumbles between them, jiggling his knee.
Nick sympathises because he always feels the cold like the deep ache of an early virus in his throat, fanning within his chest with every breath. It’s heavy, but it seldom gets worse; he can handle it.
On most days he can handle it just fine.
There are beer bottles lining the kitchen counter and Nick’s bowed in his seat at their small dining table listening to the fridge hum. The windows in this place make the early morning sun throw a sickly, off-green light over everything. He’d woken up curled around Jimmy on the couch with the acute feeling that he’d been stabbed through the chest with a jagged blade of ice, that the blade had been tugged back, but snagged with its barbs, and thrust in again.
It feels like he’s tearing when he breathes and it’s agony to move, but he keeps twitching around the pain to find a position that would offer some relief. So, Nick removes himself from the couch and curls around that cold, sharp kernel of negative space that Lucifer had burrowed and waits for it to pass.
He’s been bracing himself for forty-five minutes when Adam surfaces from the bedroom, sleepy and clumsy, with a head full of bed hair.
Nick manages a smile that Adam doesn’t return. Adam just blinks at him sleepily before wandering over and pressing his chest to Nick’s back with a sigh that puffs against the bare skin of Nick’s shoulder. Adam’s palms warm the skin over his heart, stroking up and down in calming, lazy patterns. His cheek lies flat to Nick’s ear.
"Any better this morning?” Adam mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.
Nick huffs a breath. His fingers tighten around the table edge.
“Yeah. No. Not really.”
The press of Adam’s hands change, heels digging slightly over his heart and pushing down between his ribs as though he could carve out the pain. For a moment, it helps. Adam kisses his hairline, his temple, and his cheek.
“Come on.”
Nick sees Jimmy stir on the couch, turning onto his back and stretching in his sleep. He’ll be awake soon.
“Come on,” Adam says again, drawing back, and carefully pulls Nick to his feet.
There’s a perfectly good bed in the other room, but Adam nudges Jimmy on the couch until the other man wakes up with a confused frown. Jimmy is sluggish, but he moves on auto-pilot when his eyes focus on them. He pulls his knees to himself at the corner of the couch and draws Nick to sit down between them. Adam slumps against Nick’s other side and the blanket is thrown across the three of them before Nick’s two personal space heaters pull and push at him gently, nestling closer.
Nick is pretty sure they’ve both fallen back asleep by the time Adam’s hand drops from his neck against Jimmy’s knee tucked behind him.
There isn't much they can do for each other to reach in and balm the damage of the angels, but Nick knows he’s lucky to be alive, to be in one piece, lucid, and given this second chance to chase peace.
Tucked between these two and slowly growing warm again, he's lucky.
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: Schmoop
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Jimmy/Adam/Nick
» Summary: When the din rose enough for them to rest within its motion and forget themselves, to sit and be present, they could be still. They could just be.
» A/N: I hit a block for my big bang today and decided to try writing something different to bring the words back. Thank you,
comment_fic, and ravenspear who requested Jimmy/Adam/Nick; comfort.They go to Starbucks because Adam asks for coffee and he blows on his cup as they huddle at their table in the corner, even though Adam’s order was to go. His shoulders are hunched, collar up to shield as much of his neck from the outside breeze that’s cooling with the change in seasons. He stares right through Nick who sits opposite him and Nick would actually believe that nothing was going through Adam’s mind at that moment.
That was the entire purpose of the venture: when the din rose enough for them to rest within its motion and forget themselves, to sit and be present, they could be still. They could just be.
It’s why he and Jimmy follow Adam to these cafes, even though they never order anything themselves.
Jimmy and Adam sit close enough their thighs and elbows brush when Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He studies the same sachets of sugar and sweetener each time they come here. Nick’s hands are buried in the pockets of his jacket, too thin for this weather, but he’ll have to wait for a few more pay checks until he can consider something warmer.
Nick takes them to bars where he and Jimmy order a tall glass of whatever’s on tap. They watch the season’s games blare on the wall-set televisions as Adam pushes bowls of fries at them. But the bars are cold, sticky, and for some reason spilled beer makes Nick think too easily of blood these days. It doesn’t make much sense.
Eventually they start buying beer and bringing it straight back to the apartment.
Jimmy doesn’t have a venue of choice: he likes people. Jimmy’s only wish is to be with people while amongst other people and he won’t venture out alone.
“Standing beside strangers with their own destinations and company is sometimes worse than staying by myself,” he said once.
So, they go where the people go, drifting through malls, parks and museums, eating confection at weekend fairs just to watch the light bounce off stranger’s faces, and sometimes they even sit outside office buildings with breakfast to watch the workers rush into their hive.
“Does it help watching these people live their own lives?” Nick asks Jimmy one day because Adam’s especially grumpy, still hungry after breakfast and hunched from the cold, and Nick isn’t sure they should let Jimmy continue this.
“No,” Jimmy says, surprising him. Jimmy’s face is carefully controlled when he meets Nick’s eye. “I thought it would help me remembering what it used to be like. But, actually… it’s worse.”
“Can we please go inside?” Adam grumbles between them, jiggling his knee.
Nick sympathises because he always feels the cold like the deep ache of an early virus in his throat, fanning within his chest with every breath. It’s heavy, but it seldom gets worse; he can handle it.
On most days he can handle it just fine.
There are beer bottles lining the kitchen counter and Nick’s bowed in his seat at their small dining table listening to the fridge hum. The windows in this place make the early morning sun throw a sickly, off-green light over everything. He’d woken up curled around Jimmy on the couch with the acute feeling that he’d been stabbed through the chest with a jagged blade of ice, that the blade had been tugged back, but snagged with its barbs, and thrust in again.
It feels like he’s tearing when he breathes and it’s agony to move, but he keeps twitching around the pain to find a position that would offer some relief. So, Nick removes himself from the couch and curls around that cold, sharp kernel of negative space that Lucifer had burrowed and waits for it to pass.
He’s been bracing himself for forty-five minutes when Adam surfaces from the bedroom, sleepy and clumsy, with a head full of bed hair.
Nick manages a smile that Adam doesn’t return. Adam just blinks at him sleepily before wandering over and pressing his chest to Nick’s back with a sigh that puffs against the bare skin of Nick’s shoulder. Adam’s palms warm the skin over his heart, stroking up and down in calming, lazy patterns. His cheek lies flat to Nick’s ear.
"Any better this morning?” Adam mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.
Nick huffs a breath. His fingers tighten around the table edge.
“Yeah. No. Not really.”
The press of Adam’s hands change, heels digging slightly over his heart and pushing down between his ribs as though he could carve out the pain. For a moment, it helps. Adam kisses his hairline, his temple, and his cheek.
“Come on.”
Nick sees Jimmy stir on the couch, turning onto his back and stretching in his sleep. He’ll be awake soon.
“Come on,” Adam says again, drawing back, and carefully pulls Nick to his feet.
There’s a perfectly good bed in the other room, but Adam nudges Jimmy on the couch until the other man wakes up with a confused frown. Jimmy is sluggish, but he moves on auto-pilot when his eyes focus on them. He pulls his knees to himself at the corner of the couch and draws Nick to sit down between them. Adam slumps against Nick’s other side and the blanket is thrown across the three of them before Nick’s two personal space heaters pull and push at him gently, nestling closer.
Nick is pretty sure they’ve both fallen back asleep by the time Adam’s hand drops from his neck against Jimmy’s knee tucked behind him.
There isn't much they can do for each other to reach in and balm the damage of the angels, but Nick knows he’s lucky to be alive, to be in one piece, lucid, and given this second chance to chase peace.
Tucked between these two and slowly growing warm again, he's lucky.
