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sparrowmoss · 2 years ago

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my extremely in-depth and hyperspecific “trans” castiel headcanon is something i want to talk about or at least just put down in words for myself

i think of cas’s human body, the formerly owned by jimmy novak body, as a trans man, and i think of castiel the angel residing within it as existing completely outside of human gender terms and ideas BUT as someone who is okay with most masculine or neutral terms.

i think cas would have chosen short term vessels for convenience and not really been picky about the physical bodies of those, but with his present day body, he chose something he would be comfortable existing in long-term, because he knew this time it might be needed. tied to my preference of headcanoning cas as the angel equivalent of autistic, or separate from it idgaf, i think cas would have looked for a human body with, like, no bits sticking off. no dick no balls no boobs. they get in the way and can be uncomfortable and inconvenient and sensitive to pain. don’t want that. feels like something cas would do. so, choosing a guy to be his vessel who had none of that was just perfect for him.

tied to the important headcanon of jimmy novak being a trans man, i think that 1. his wife almost certainly did know, though i’m not too picky on whether it was otherwise a secret or touchy subject or not, 2. claire is not biologically related to him and was probably like a sperm donor baby or something like that 3. as you already know by what i said in the beginning, jimmy novak was a top surgery and testosterone only for transition type of guy. half of me says this because i am projecting and thats what i want to ultimately be so i want to see myself represented in a character i love (being castiel, but since he is like, possessing a body that originally belonged to someone else, you see my point) and also because i feel like not wanting any hangly bits is something that would fit cas.

for angel gender overall, i headcanon all angels as, at least originally, existing completely outside of any human concepts of gender. upon creation all angels have the same gender, which is also the same as having no gender, as there’s nothing else to compare it to. there are no Man Angels or Women Angels except for and until humans begin forming ideas of gender, and some angels learn about it either just from watching or from possessing human vessels and interacting with society, and decide they identify with some aspects of some of the many, Many genders that exist and have existed in various societies and cultures. i think the wide majority of angels would still not feel attachments to any gender for themselves, but many would have preferences for their human vessels, clothing and other presentation aspects, pronouns, titles, etc. i think angels would, as we have seen in the show, generally keep the presentation aspects their vessels had previously because speaking as an androgynous trans person it is just Easier and Simpler to interact with society if people can easily categorize you into a binary gender slot. and i think usually, angels would not be super into spending a lot of time explaining their genderweird presentation shit to nosy humans when they’re only on earth to get a job done. though in times of greater acceptance and wider presentation variability in humans, i think lots of angels would gladly take the opportunity to follow suit.

as for cas’s gender specifically, i think of him as roughly agender. i think he would accept being referred to as a man or a dude or a guy because 1. he understands that his physical appearance of his vessel lends itself to human assumption and 2. it generally does not bother him to be casually gendered in a masculine way. i think if it got down to specifics, though, cas would say he isn’t a man. kind of like how when dean was talking about benjamin, he said something like “so benjamin’s a woman?” and cas replied with something like “no, benjamin is an angel. his vessel is a woman.” using pronouns generally associated by humans with a gender, but, despite having an opportunity to say benjamin is A Man, not saying that and instead just saying benjamin is an angel. and i hc that this is how castiel would think of himself, though he just happens to be okay with the pronouns most frequently assumed by people based on the way his formerly-vessel-now-body looks.

i think overall cas would be fine with he/him or they/them, okay with most neopronouns too, and not that fond of she/her. i do, though, think he might like gender neutral titles better than gendered ones, like partner over boyfriend, sibling over brother, parent over dad or father, etc. but still be okay with the masculine titles, just slightly prefer neutral ones. i don’t think he would like most typically feminine titles like mother or sister or wife or anything like that. maybe he would be okay with a few on rare occasions depending on who it comes from.

cas is obviously not big on self expression in the form of clothing, and i generally attribute that to practicality and lack of interest. i extend that in my headcanon to things like makeup (inconvenient, not necessary, not interested in using it to try to be attractive to anyone, bad physical sensation on skin), body hair removal (its there. who cares. if it wasnt meant to be there it wouldnt be there. except facial hair because that is annoying and itchy.), and clothing that is flashy and/or uncomfortable (physical comfort and practicality being priority, he just wears what jimmy novak wore most of the time in canon aside from when he was human but i do like to imagine that in a fix-it of post canon he might have a LITTLE more variety in there, maybe at jack’s encouragement at first, idk). i think he might on rare occasions try stuff like painting his nails (or letting someone else like claire or jack or whoever) but only like. minimal stuff that wont be physically unpleasant. or like i said about the clothes, stuff thats simple and soft and comfortable. but mostly, just what is necessary for basic functioning-in-society purposes.

annnnnnnd i don’t think cas would really consider himself Trans. like for us as fans thinking about it and putting it into words i would say trans cas or trans headcanon just to mean i dont think he is a cis man but like… if you wanna get specific. detailed. pinpoint accuracy. i think angels are Not assigned a gender at “birth” and therefore kind of cant be transgender but for our purposes we kind of would consider him to be. he isnt a binary gender but isnt really Trans gender. its complicated. its messy. its trying to apply human terms to someone and something that isnt human and cannot fully be represented by terms we made to reflect us and our experiences.

this is ungodly levels of long now holy shit im sorry but i think thats everything damn

#im so sorry everyone i do have to tag this for my followers blacklisting purposes #supernatural #castiel #aaaeeeyyyyy got on desktop so put it under a readmore

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magdaclaire · 2 years ago

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i don’t know nothing (and that’s fine)

the long awaited 7k magdaclaire fic | title is from knowledge by green day

"Do you know where I was when Sam and Dean had to bring me back?" she asks, almost not waiting for the beat of silence she would leave in a typical conversation, waiting for a response; she doesn't expect a response from Magda. No one ever really does. Magda, rarely one to do as others expect of her, focuses her gaze on Claire for a moment before Claire loses her gaze to the wall again.

"No idea," she says, though her tone doesn't give much to indicate that she cares. Claire presses on anyway.

"Got napped while working a case I didn't tell Alex or Jody about. Almost died. Now, nobody will let me out of their goddamned sight," Claire summarizes poorly, shrugging her shoulders as if it's not a very big deal. Her hands are tucked behind her back to make sure that they don't shake. Magda frowns.

"Is there an insinuation here that we have comparable situations? Is that why you brought it up? Because-" she starts, but Claire shakes her head, hands whipped out to be held up, placating.

"No, dude!" she exclaims, then continues, "You went through a lot of shit. I'm not trying to- like- compare anything, or play Trauma Olympics with you or anything, it's just that sometimes it's easier to talk to people about your own shit if you already know some of theirs. Equal exchange, you know? Not that you have to say anything, so we're clear. Free rights kinda house around here, Peterson," Claire jokes, catching the way that Magda flinches at the sound of her own surname. Okay, noted. Never fucking calling her that again. Abusive fuckheads.

"My Mama- I killed two people with my mind. But even before that, my Mama thought I was the devil. Because I can do things. Hurt her with my mind on accident, and it's like- she never looked at me the same. Decided all at once I wasn't her daughter anymore. One accident, and I was done. I still can't really control it. That's why I don't want anyone in here. So if you don't mind," Magda says, very clearly dismissing Claire in her quiet Iowan accent. Claire sits down on top of Magda's clear-topped dresser, sure that it'll hold her weight. Magda has a mom that's nothing like Claire's- stayed around and lost her mind confronted with power, tried to lock it (lock her daughter) away so that she would never have to confront it again, didn't run away from responsibility like Claire's own mother, but tried to take the bull by the horns and make it into beef herself. She forgot that the beast was her daughter. Even having just met Magda, Claire'd be willing to break into her cell to remind her.

"Way it was told to me, you killed that social worker and that stock boy without them being in the room at all. If being alone now and just being safe is helping you, you're more than welcome to your alone time, but Magda, nobody is afraid of you just for having something you can't control. We've all been there," she says, her head dipped forward and her knees splayed apart. Her Mama never liked it when she left that space between her legs- Claire Elizabeth, you better keep an aspirin between your knees!- like Claire had even been old enough to have an interest in anybody by the time Mama took off. It's just how she's comfortable. Magda looks at her again, still real brief, but a wrinkle between her brows like she just can't help it, given her curiosity.

"What do you mean?" she asks, rubbing her fingertips along her wrist, and Claire's heels knock against the dresser. She came in here to help. That means talking about her shit too.

"The- uh- the hunt that Dean and Co picked me up from. Werewolf hunt. Got bitten. For most American hunters, it's pretty much a death sentence, if another hunter with you is willing to put you down. It was fucking scary is what it was," she says, not able to stop herself from being honest, words spilling out of her like water before she shores it up. Nothing like trying to help someone else that'll make you unpack your recently acquired trauma, or whatever the fuck. When she looks up, Magda is looking clean at her, no bullshit, no looking away, those big brown eyes deadlocked on Claire's. Claire clears her throat and makes herself continue. "Every day, nothing left in me anything but human, I still feel out of fuckin' control, Magda. Being that, I would rather have been put down. Every day, you are stronger for being alive. Don't let anybody take that from you."

Jesus Christ and all the apostles, somebody should put a muzzle on her. Who in God's good graces let her try and befriend the traumatized girl living in their house?

"You're very kind," Magda says, snapping Claire out of her head so fast she feels like she should get whiplash just from the emotional effect of it. Kind? That's sure as fuck a first. Claire takes a moment to process what Magda said, but then gives her a grin just a bit crooked, just a bit sardonic.

"I'm really not," she says, because she really isn't, and she doesn't really know how she made Magda think so. No one has ever made the misjudgement of character necessary to call her that, and never at such a short window of judgement that Claire feels she's barely had time to earn it at all. Magda, doing as Magda seems to tend to do when Claire says much at all, frowns.

"Alex has told me that you're a very guarded person, and yet you're in here telling me about something that seems to be very hard for you, in such a way that it seems to be because you believe it will help me. That is a very kind thing to do for a stranger, Claire," Magda says, her voice small and soft, but as level as it has been the entire time; it's the most Claire thinks anyone has heard her speak her entire stay. It hadn't occurred to her, however, that with Magda not speaking much, the others would be filling in the gaps.

"Alex told you about me?" she asks, the question coming out of her mouth before she can hold it back, a bit more impulsive than she means to be.

"Did you think no one spoke to me til you came back?" Magda asks, and there's a little bit of a teasing lilt to her voice, her eyebrow raised, and oh no. Jesus alive. Does she have to be pretty too? Superpowers wasn't enough. Jesus alive. Claire rolls her eyes, reminding herself to recover, to roll with the punches, as it were. As if. She's better in a fight than she is alone in a room with a pretty girl, isn't she?

"Well, all I've heard about is that you haven't said much, how was I supposed to know that it's because Alex has been running her mouth about me the whole damn time?" she says, rolling her eyes. Magda's wrinkled brow comes back something fierce.

"They told you I haven't talked much?" Magda asks, the curl of her curiosity trailing around her words. Claire raises an eyebrow at her, turning her exact expression from a moment ago back upon her.

"Did you think no one told me anything about the girl that moved in while I was gone?" she teases back, though she watches carefully as Magda's expression falls back into something carefully curated, something almost watched to it.

"How much I talk was relevant?" Magda asks, her voice back to that flatness she had when Claire first came in. Claire slides off the dresser, moving so that she can lean against the wall next to Magda's bed. Knowing that the animal (the girl, anything else, she won't be another person who takes humanity away from Magda Peterson) she's coming upon isn't entirely re-accustomed to people, she leaves a bit of distance between them, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Well, yeah, Mags," she says, her eyebrows creased as she tries to come up with a way to explain the dynamic that Jody has fostered in this house, the way that everyone just fucking cares all the time. "We care about how you're doing, you know- even me. You're not alone here. No one is gonna tell you what to do or how to do it, but someone is gonna care if you aren't talking or eating or even if you just need somebody to sit with you for a while, somebody around here is always gonna care about that. Jody, Alex, hell, come to me. If you need somebody or whatever. You don't have to stay in your room if you wanna come out," she says, and she tries not to stutter over her wording. It's always fucking coming out isn't it. She stops herself from adding anything else, yearning for her typical reticence where Magda's very existence seems to pull words out of her by the dozen.

Magda's face is turned down when Claire looks at her, and for a second she's a little worried. No need. "Mags," the other girl says to herself softly, and Claire's blush comes in hot across her nose.

"I give you an entire speech and you catch the part where I call you something that isn't your name? I can cut it out if you want," she says, eyes alright averted from Magda when Magda's hand darts out to grab her wrist, her fingertips gentle but cold.

"No! You. You can call me that. If you want," Magda says, her feet off the edge of the bed like she would have gotten up just to stop Claire from- from not calling her Mags anymore? And Claire can't stop the smile that spreads across her face.

"Sure, Mags. Whatever you want."

From there, Magda takes her at her word. This is the truth with Magda often, but it is especially true when Magda is in need of a person to talk to, in need of a hand to hold, in need of anything at all, because when she needs that, it is most often Claire that she finds. She comes out of her room with more and more regularity, til seeing her little dark hard peak down the hallway is more of a marker of breakfast being ready than an oddity in need of being investigated. The fact that Claire happens to follow where she goes is more a matter of her own embarrassment than a show of concern.

"Feel like you and Magda can detach for a bit so I can drag you to a store, or do I have to go by myself?" Alex asks, throwing herself onto the couch beside Claire completely without grace and additionally, completely without care. Claire doesn't know that she's ever met someone who was raised less like she was than Alex, knowing that this girl, her sister, basically functioned as a vampire juice box for her formative years makes Claire feel like she's got no room to complain about the bullshit she's muddled through. Between her and Magda, a girl could develop a complex. Speaking of Magda.

"Okay, first of all, Magda and me aren't attached, so detachment wouldn't be unnecessary anyway. But... why can't Magda come with us?" she asks, not at all because she hasn't left the house much since she came home from her werewolf hunt and met Magda, and most definitely not because she doesn't want Magda to need anything while she's gone. She doesn't even know if Mags has a phone! Alex rolls her eyes, but then her smile slips and she's just frowning at Claire like she's being a bit obtuse.

"Magda hasn't exactly left the house since she got here, Claire. I don't think she's gonna come to the store with us just because we ask," she says, her frown coming down even further until her mouth looks pursed, like how Claire's mom's would look sometimes when she was still around enough to worry about Claire. It makes her act quickly, wanting to take that look off of her sister's face.

"Hey Mags!" she calls to the other room, knowing Magda will be lingering in the library. That's where she said she would be anyway. Magda peaks her head out. Alex mouths Mags to herself silently. Everybody has something to say about what she calls Magda. Who cares? Magda likes it.

"Yes, Claire?" the girl herself asks, both of her hands on one side of the doorway of the library as she leans on it. She's so goddamn cute. Fuck.

"Wanna come to the store with us?" she asks, even though she doesn't even know why Alex wants to go to the store or what they're going for, and she hadn't even decided if she herself had wanted to go in the first place. Just the idea that Magda hasn't left the house since she got here is making her want to take the other girl on a drive that never ends, makes her want Magda on the wide open road, makes her want to see Magda in the sunshine. She doesn't know how it never occurred to her that she never had. Magda gives her a small smile.

"Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed?" she asks, tilting her head in the direction of her room. Claire grins.

"Sure, yeah," she says, and Magda nods, walking off. She's barely cleared the turn in the hallway before Alex grabs Claire's arm, startling her. She hadn't realized she had zoned in on Magda that hard. She turns to Alex.

"Dude, when did you guys get all buddy-buddy? I swear to God, do I work too much? Everybody else in this house needs a real job. I refuse to miss things," Alex says, her expression set in a deep frown, and Claire laughs. It's an ugly, giggle-snort sort of affair, half choked by Claire not wanting very much to laugh at all, but Alex is just so- the FOMO on some girls, you know? Sometimes, Alex is just so normal. It's the coolest thing about her.

"I talked to her as soon as I got home. You know we've been following each other around ever since. She's fun to have around," Claire says about Magda, though even she's not quite sure what she means by it. She's not really sure what's fun about Magda, except that it's every single thing about her- it's her scrunched up nose when she eats something with a texture she doesn't like, it's her twinkling-bell laughter when Claire says something that catches her off guard, it's the way she slips her hand into Claire's when they're watching movies together, like she just doesn't wanna go two hours not being able to touch her. It's not that anything that Magda does is particularly fun, but maybe rather that everything is more fun when it's done with her.

That's neither here nor there.

"Fuck, put shoes on, Magda is getting dressed. Can't still be sitting here when we're the ones who asked her to go somewhere," Alex says after a beat of silence, pushing Claire up off of the couch as if she can't move herself off it under her own steam. Man, they really don't tell you the risks, trials and tribulations related to acquiring an older sister in your late teens! Claire shoves Alex as they’re crossing the living room, just for fun.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Alex mutters under her breath. Claire grins.

"Ooooooh, I'm telling Jody, she said you're not allowed to threaten to kill me anymore. She's gonna give you that fucking face and you're gonna feel sooo bad about it," Claire says, thinking honestly about shoving Alex again, her laughter kept behind her teeth by the skin of them, when she's stopped short.

"What's Alex going to feel bad about?" Magda asks, her fingers wrapped around the polished amethyst hanging from her throat. The color purple suits her so well that it makes something stick in Claire's throat, some desperate kind of yearning that makes her feel stumbling and stupid, longing and lingering. She swallows past the effect of it, giving Magda her best smile.

"Just threatening to kill me, Mags, nothing major," she says, laughter wrapped around her teeth. Magda's eyebrows scrunch.

"I think that counts as major," she replies, concerned, and Alex groans.

"I'm not actually gonna kill her, Mags, it's like- a figure of speech, you know? 'Cause she's my little sister and she's annoying as hell? It's not an actual threat," Alex assures, not noticing as Magda's nose wrinkles when her nickname drops from Alex's mouth. Claire only notices because she looks at her so damn much, but she's not about to say anything about it. What's she supposed to say? You can't call her that? That's my nickname for her? She puts on her shoes quietly, almost missing when Magda next speaks.

"That's what Claire calls me, but I don't know if I'm comfortable with other people calling me that yet. That's okay, right?" Magda says, her words coming slow, difficult, and Claire wants to wrap herself around her, hold her in close. She knows that Magda can handle her own, can move shit with her mind, can do whatever the fuck she wants, but goddamn it, she shouldn't always have to look out for herself. Alex smiles at Magda with one of her exceptionally patient smiles, one of those ones she typically has on when she's in the Emergency Room, and she gives Magda a nod.

"Totally okay, Magda. You can be called whatever you want," she says, just the right mix of caring and encouraging, and Claire wishes she could fucking do that. She wishes she could just make people feel safe like Alex does, just slip into that persona that Alex has where people feel cared for, she wishes she knew what set of skills Alex developed to get that effect on people. Claire was never going to be a nurse- even if she had ended up normal, in her mother's dream hetero marriage with a couple of kids and if she had gotten to know her Dad instead of the Eldritch horror that wears his skin, working directly with people was never a part of her journey. When she was really little, she wanted to be a firefighter. An astronaut. Now, it doesn't feel like she would be able to do anything but exactly what she's doing right up until the gas runs out.

"To the store, shall we?" she asks her companions, yanking herself out of her head with great force. Magda gives her a small smile and nods, reaching out for Claire's hand. Claire gives it to her without any thought to the contrary, slipping her fingers between Magda's and dragging her out the door.

Magda and Alex's relationship continues to develop, though not as closely as Claire's own relationship with the younger girl; Magda still sticks to her like a burr on her worse days, more comfortable under Claire's arm than she seems to be anywhere else. Today is not one of Magda's worse days but Claire's, which, for some reason, makes Magda typically stick to her even more if Claire doesn't actually ask for alone time. Honestly, she doesn't even really want alone time right now. On days like today, when the guilt is rushing over and she's a stone beneath a rushing river's unforgiving current, maybe she doesn't have to be alone. Maybe laying on her bed with Magda is doable. Maybe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Magda asks her when the sun is a bit too bright in the room, probably a little bit into the afternoon, and when they've been laying there for perhaps a little too long. It shouldn't bother her that Magda might not want to do exactly what they've been doing for the past two hours. It shouldn't make her chest hurt a little that Magda might want to go do something else; Magda spends more than half of her time in here, or wherever Claire is. It's cool if she wants to go when they're not even doing anything. "Just if you want to, Claire. We can just lay here," Magda says, contradicting every thought buzzing through Claire's head, and then she's grabbing Claire's hand on top of it, the weight of her fingers reassuring between her own.

Claire clears her throat, and yeah. Yeah, maybe she does want to talk about it. Can talk about it. With Magda.

"When Castiel-" she pauses, remembering that his name isn't carved into the internal dialogue of every girl with religious trauma from here to Texas, "the Winchesters' angel, I don't know if he was with them when they got you- when he came to Earth, he needed a vessel. A human strong enough to hold an angel, with strong enough faith to allow them in and allow them to stay." That's what the Winchester Gospels said about them anyway. Castiel just said that they needed to believe. They were special. Believers. Bullshit. "When Castiel came to Earth, he took my father. And then, when my father told him he couldn't stay anymore, Castiel approached me. Being a vessel, it's passed down in the family line. The blood. The body. All they need is the body. And I was a kid. He might as well have been God. So I said yes. And my father took him back. If you think about it, it's my fault that my dad is dead."

"You were a kid, Claire," Magda says, the words out of her mouth just after Claire is done with her own. She says it like it matters more than anything that damns Claire, like it is a virtue unalienable, like she shouldn't have known better. Claire doesn't catch herself before she squeezes Magda's hand, fingers tightening before nearly letting go entirely, embarrassed of the accident. She's not normally so skittish of Magda. Right now, it just feels like everybody is gonna fucking leave.

"I should have known better. What angel is gonna take a kid as a vessel? Of course he was trying to get my dad back. But I just fucking believed." It comes out nearly a sob, her free hand pulling at her hair trying to make her come back to her senses, and she's turning toward Magda before she knows what she's doing and Magda is pulling her over, pulling her in. Claire ends up mostly on top of the other girl, but she's not thinking much about it, her vision blurred with tears she hasn't let out since she was ten years old and moving in with her grandmother with little to no explanation from her mother. She never had a body to bury despite losing both her parents at once. There never was a funeral. There always was a mourner.

"It's okay, Claire. Whatever you need, baby. Whatever you need," Magda murmurs into her hair, and Claire shivers, because Jody cares for her but Claire nearly never lets her, and Alex loves her but it's not like they really hug, but Magda is holding her like she's worth the tear stains and Claire thinks she might crack apart if she lets her. She called her baby. A sob wracks Claire's chest.

"Magda," she says like it's ripped out of her, and Magda runs her hand along her back, her other hand buried in Claire's hair.

"Yeah, Claire, I'm here, it's okay," Magda whispers, pulling Claire even closer, close enough it feels like she could climb inside Magda's skin. Claire's face is pressed against Magda's shoulder and collarbone while Magda reaches behind her to fiddle around with something. It's only a second before Claire finds out what the other girl was doing, because the gray blanket she keeps laid out on her bed (which is the softest material she's ever felt and Jody bought it for her as soon as she showed she might actually like something) is coming down over her shoulders and spreading over her and Magda. All at once she feels warm all over, safe, like she and Magda are in a world all their own in a little blanket fort in room made only of the blanket and their bodies. She feels like a little girl. She feels a thousand years old.

"Mags, I'm so tired," she says, her eyelashes pressing against Magda's skin and making her eyes itch. She doesn't move them. Magda's fingers run through her hair.

"Go to sleep, Claire."

When Jody wakes them up a few hours later for dinner, she's very tactful in that she doesn't ask either of them any questions about the position that she found them in, but doing that thing Moms sometimes do when their kid has a prom date that they're not sure if that date is an actual date or not, sending Claire significant looks over the dining table and giving Magda little conversational nudges as if to ask any question resembling whether they were sleeping in the same bed in a platonic way without actually reaching that exact question. As if Magda is particularly good at inferring indirect questions. She typically guesses so incorrectly as to what people mean by being indirect that Claire usually tells her what people are talking around later. She can always tell that the talking around is happening, it's just that she so thoroughly doesn't understand the point of not being direct that it's hard for her to get what someone is trying to obscure. It's nice. Claire doesn't know that she's ever been around someone who bullshits as little as Magda.

She doesn't know that she's going to tell Magda about this particular instance, though. She really can't afford to make her uncomfortable. Not when she's gone and let herself get this attached. In fact, she should think about going and getting herself unattached, if she's smart about it.

Even if Magda's nothing like her mother, even if she's the sweetest girl Claire has ever met, and even if she has actual superpowers, there's no telling as to whether she'd be even accepting of somebody like Claire. Lesbians. Hell, queer people as a whole. She wouldn't be the first homophobe Claire's ever met, nor the first to ever earn her trust, and fuck, she wouldn't be the first one to hurt her feelings. She knows her Mama would never have- even her Daddy- fuck.

She's gotta stop feeling like this with Magda. She's probably gotta leave again. Something. Despite the fact that she told herself she was taking a break after the werewolf case, she starts looking for cases whenever Magda is doing her time in the library, reading every book she can get her hands on like somebody's gonna take them away. Well. That's probably a bit too apt. She cannot be thinking about Magda's past right now. She can leave for a week. Two, even. This girl has not made her so desperate to stay in such a relatively short time that the idea of going on a case makes her feel a little sick. That's not what is happening right now.

She's never gonna get any higher education, but if there was any degree in lying to yourself, she'd probably have a masters degree in denial by now.

The house is quieter when she's trying not to stick to Magda as much, being as avoiding Magda damn near means avoiding everyone in the house. Jody has her whenever she gets a day off at least for a few hours, always leaving room in her schedule for Magda and the thing that they do where they've been trying to make each other better at cooking by muddling through it together. Alex takes her shopping whenever she wants to leave the house, books bought on her Daddy's estate money seeing as no one had been living on the farm anymore, and Claire isn't supposed to be hearing about Magda's excursions while she's trying to separate herself from this. Donna, now that she's moved in, goes on nature walks with Magda.

She's not sure why she knows when and how and why everyone spends time with Magda, but the idea that other people are spending more time with her than she is doesn't feel great.

Despite the fact that she's trying to pull away, she just can't fucking help it sometimes, you know? It's like, Magda Peterson is not a girl that is meant to look sad, if you've got any bit of soul left in you. Any bit of heart. Too much heart. Anyway. When Magda is upset, there's just something wrong about it, like Claire can't be happy if she isn't, like Claire can't focus on anything else until she knows what's going on in that pretty little head of hers. Jesus alive, she needs a case. Instead, she's sitting next to Magda in the low lamplight of Magda's bedroom, listening to the quiet of her fucking piano version of the first Green Day album playing from the computer, the notes coming out slightly tinny. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she's got big dyke feelings for a girl who listens to piano covers of punk bands. Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

"You wanna talk about it?" Claire asks, being as that's how all of their conversations lately seem to begin. On bad days, anyway. Magda doesn't quite look at her yet.

"Something has been wrong with you too, lately," she says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Her tone is one that brokers no argument, and Claire doesn't know anybody who does as little bullshit as Magda, but Jesus. She never will sugarcoat anything. It's always gonna be a bitter pill.

"Maybe, but this isn't about me," Claire replies, frowning. Magda finally looks up at her, her expression mostly flat, except for barely a flick of a smile.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she says, so close to flirtation that Claire feels like she's spinning on a knife's edge, a ballerina on a point. She clears her throat. Tell the truth? To know what's bothering Magda? It's not like Claire is closeted. Magda is going to know eventually. It's a question of whether she's going to know because Claire told her, and because Claire told her all of her worries about it, or because it was sprung on her out of nowhere. Suddenly, and with a rush of bravery that she's not sure she should feel, Claire chooses the fate she keeps in her own hands.

"Sometimes, because of my mom, I guess, I feel like I'm bad. Evil. Because I like girls." She doesn't mention how it makes her scared in every single friendship, in every single relationship, every single day, but still the admission takes everything out of Claire that she has in her, more than she might have had in the first place. She tries not to think about how that fear might also be related to her father, his faith so unshakeable when he took Castiel on that he stuck his hand in a pot of boiling water- she had read that in the Winchester Gospels, awful fucking books they are- and she doesn't know that losing faith in God would have taken the small town boy out of her Daddy. She refuses to be grateful for Castiel. She refuses to be grateful for not living a normal life. Her eyes are clenched shut, but she feels it when Magda's fingers lace with her own.

"Do you think I'm evil, Claire?" she asks, her voice calm and small, level like Magda, and Claire clears her throat to speak.

"No," she says, and it comes out as a croak. Magda squeezes her fingers, a silent benediction. An offer of comfort, clear and freely given. Jesus.

"Thanks," Magda says, which is admittedly a little funny when one is getting thanks for not thinking one's friend is evil, and then she says, "Not even because I like girls?" and Claire blinks.

"Oh, you- you too?" she asks, feigned casualty completely useless with Magda laying close enough for their shoulders to brush, to feel when she stops breathing at a typical rate. She gets a nod in return.

"I think so. Maybe always. It's not like my mom knew, not like that's what she was- she didn't know to be mad about that. She would have, though. She would have hated it. She'd hate it still," Magda says, her eyes cast off in the great big somewhere she goes off to sometimes when her eyes aren't on Claire, and Claire is off of her back before she even thinks of it, her weight moving to her elbow and her other hand cupping Magda's face.

"Hey, fuck your mom, man. You're perfect, Mags. Just the way you are. She'd be fucking lucky to get to know you," Claire assures her friend, Magda fucking Peterson, Magda who rarely has a mean word to say about anyone, even if she has a hell of a verbal right hook coming along, if Claire has anything to do with it. The point! The point is that there's no reason to hate Magda. And even if there fucking was. Nobody deserves what Magda got. Claire realizes, suddenly, that she's cupping Magda's face, leaning over her on Magda's bed in the mostly-darkness that Magda tends to prefer, but Magda's hand, placed quietly and carefully on top of Claire's own, stops her from taking it back.

"Your mom would be lucky too, Claire. Really... really fucking lucky," Magda says, dropping the curse word awkwardly, and Claire grins at her, wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss her so bad it aches in her chest, wants to kiss Magda like the coming of the tide, an ocean in her belly overwhelming her with want for this girl. She's pretty like stained glass windows of the Virgin Mary, pretty like pictures of Mary Magdalene in picture book Bibles, pretty like Magda, smiling up at Claire from her back, her hand holding Claire's hand to her face. Claire wants to kiss her. Ask her on a date. Ask her to dance. She makes herself brave.

"Could I-" she starts. Magda's hand moves to Claire's jaw.

"Please," she says, and Claire thinks she might melt. Instead, she meets Magda in the middle where the other girl is straining up against her, leans down and brings their lips together and lets herself have this. Magda's mouth is soft and warm, and the sparks where their lips meet make her feel like she's going to spring into light, make her feel as close as she's been to Heaven since she was a vessel. She swings her hips over Magda's just so that she can free the hand holding her up, lace those fingers with Magda's, hold her hand and kiss her too, old comfort and new intimacy.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Magda," she says, kissing Magda again as soon as she separates their lips, desperate for a touch she never ever guessed that she could have. She can finally taste Magda's smile.

"This is even better than I thought it would be," the other girl says, quiet like Claire maybe isn't supposed to hear, but she tilts Magda's head up, thumb under her chin.

"What were you thinking about?" she asks, wondering wildly if Magda had wanted to kiss her too, if Magda had wanted more, if Magda wants to hold her hands all the time and cook meals together and come on hunts with Claire someday, maybe, or when Claire is ready to stop hunting, settle down and be someone together. She's not sure what she wants. She's just pretty sure that she wants it with Magda. She'd like to figure it out with Magda.

"Kissing girls. Kissing you. Being with you," Madga says, everything that Claire wants and yet the bare version of it, simple and safe. Jesus alive, she's so easy to want to kiss. It's never been so easy to want. Claire bumps her nose against Magda's, knowing well enough she's looking at Magda like she hung the goddamn moon, but not knowing well enough to stop. How can she stop? She kisses Magda again just to be safe.

"I want that too," she whispers, tells it like a secret she's hiding in the apple of Magda's cheek, her knees coming down on Magda's sides as she settles into her straddling her. The move only flusters her more as she considers the consequences of her actions (which she never really considers before doing anything), but Magda's hands come up around the backs of her thighs before she can get too embarrassed. She moves her face from where she had hidden herself in Magda's shoulder length hair.

"You want to be with me?" Magda asks, smiling up at Claire so prettily she thinks she might burst into flames, and she should have stayed hiding her face. It's hard to think that when Magda looks at her like that, though. Claire nods, and then she thinks again where this conversation started, brushing her nose against Magda's cheek.

"What was... what's on your mind? Or what was before this, I mean," she asks, nudging her nose against Magda's face again as she says this, because it feels like this is gonna make her burst into a thousand little confetti pieces of herself. Magda's hands squeeze her for a second, reflexive, as Magda frowns, her eyebrows wrinkling.

"You haven't been yourself lately," Magda says, and she tilts her face up so that their foreheads rest against each other for a moment, fleeting, before leaving space between them again. "I got scared. Thought I scared you. Didn't know what was going on," she continues, her expression back to that insecure place, and Claire rests her head against Magda's once again. It burns in her chest to think that she hurt Magda with her own fucked up fear, the things that were sowed into her that only she could reap. But she doesn't have to linger here, and she has to fucking remember that. You can't fix anything from under the ground. Jody told her something like that once. Can't fix anything trying to dig yourself down.

"I'm sorry, Mags. Got caught up in my head. You didn't scare me at all, okay? Never scared of you. Not once," she says, and she kisses Magda again, soft and careful and clear in her intentions. She never wants Magda to think she's scared of her. Magda kisses her back with no small amount of intention herself, one of her hands moving to Claire's face to cup her jaw, Magda's sure fingertips sweeping over Claire's face. Her hands are so careful that Claire's going to lose her mind. She dives into the kiss, deepening it. Magda hums, a noise that makes Claire want more of it immediately, more of all of this, more of Magda.

Jesus on the Cross, this is going to be a problem, isn't it?

And it is.

She likes Magda so much it makes her look stupid, but it helps that Magda likes her at least as much. As much as Mags hung off her before, she only feels more entitled to it now, now mostly forgoing holding her hand for her new move of jumping onto Claire's back in the hallway, knowing that Claire will catch her. As uncomfortable as she is with her powers, she'll move something from across the room if it means that Claire won't have to get off of her lap. All of the tiny things that make her Magda fascinate Claire endlessly, like studying veins in flowers or grooves in tree bark, details that make a beautiful thing whole. She sounds terribly infatuated. It's maybe the youngest she's ever felt.

Claire smiles where she sits cross legged on the floor. They're supposed to be straightening up Magda's room- or rather, Magda had planned to be cleaning up her room, and had abandoned the plan immediately when Claire had come in, flopping onto her bed with her bag of books (still not unpacked from their recent trip to a book sale). It's mostly clean anyway, only two of the bookcases still somewhat cluttered, and that's okay. It looks fine. It looks lived in. Magda just looks pretty from where she stares over at Claire with that usual steady stare of hers, her face all round and upside down and sweet looking. Claire is so fucking fond of her that she looks stupid.

"I think I need another bookcase," Magda says, hand resting on the bag of books idly. Claire snorts.

"You could probably do with a couple, Mags. I doubt you're fitting them in here, though," she says, looking at the two bookcases on the far side and then to the still two more on either side of Magda's bed, all four a bit overstacked with books. Between Magda's room and the library, you'd think she would have enough books, or at the very least, enough room for them. But, you know, whatever makes her happy. "You can put a couple in my room if you want. It's not like I use the space for much," she suggests, thinking about the empty wall on the far side of her room. Once upon a time, she was going to put a desk there. Now, knowing that she doesn't really have any love of anything you might use a desk for, she can't think of a better use for the space than more of Magda's books.

"A couple books?" Magda asks, her voice a bit smaller. Claire raises an eyebrow. How the hell would only a couple of books be at all useful? She shakes her head.

"No, babe, a couple of bookcases. Really, I've got the space," she repeats. She looks back to Magda to find the other girl closer than she left her, so close that Claire catches her hands before she even thinks about it. Magda holds her fingers and slides up to kiss her, upside down and so sweet, Claire feels like she's got hearts coming off her goddamn head. It's an awkward angle, so it's only a quick little kiss, but God. Kissing Magda. Yeah.

"Thank you, Claire. You're- thank you," Magda says, stumbling over her words when she pulls back. She's nearly halfway off the bed, her chest on the corner, and Claire could pull her off if she was feeling a little mean. She hardly ever is where Magda is concerned. Alex calls her whipped when Magda isn't listening- well, it better be when Magda isn't listening. Otherwise, Alex is about to catch her hands.

"You're about to fall off the bed, Mags. Come on, let's get you back up," she says, standing from her crossed legs and lifting the other girl back onto the bed sideways (which is actually rightways, now) so that her head is back up on the pillow. Magda is grinning up at her when she sets her back onto the comforter, and God above, Claire is a little whipped, isn't she? She dips down and kisses Magda on the forehead for her trouble, fully committing to the bit of whatever it is that she's got going on. Magda giggles. Claire kisses her again, a real kiss this time, and sets her knees on either side of Magda, the bag of books nudged to the very end of the bed. Making out with Magda in a bed with books in it. Sounds like something she could do.

#clairemagda #magdaclaire #claire novak #magda peterson #besties this fic has permanently altered my brain chemistry #mine #spn #if you read this please know that this is my magnum opus. not least of all bc it will be my fic 200 on ao3. but listen mostly bc of the fic #it's Here.#magda is autistic gang rise up #use of the word dyke by a lesbian writer and character

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