(no subject)
HEY GUYS I WROTE DEAN/CASTIEL
Only kidding.
OR AM I.
"Oh Dean," Castiel whispered, a furrow gracing his angelic brow as he stroked his hand down Dean's delicate yet manly jawline. "I could stare at you with an air of slight bewilderment for hours."
He did so.
It was not at all awkward.
***
"Dean," Sam whispered, eyes fixed on the sandwich in his hands. "Dean. Castiel is... staring at you."
He indicated with a subtle tilt of his head in the direction of the window, which was also coincidentally in the direction of Castiel's face.
Castiel tilted his head at the attention. It made his nose squeak against the window glass, a sound which is surprisingly similar to silver bells and the laughter of fat babies with wings, who knew.
Dean grunted in a manly yet somehow vulnerable fashion, chewing on his burger.
Castiel pressed his hands up against the window, letting out a lovesick sigh that was softer than the beat of angel wings. It fogged up the glass.
Sam stared as, without blinking, Castiel pulled his head back just far enough to wipe the glass with his hand and then returned his nose to its window-flavoured resting place.
"Should we," Sam began. "Should we - get him something to eat?"
Dean swallowed. "Naw," he said. "He does this sometimes. He'll wear himself out." He glanced up at the window and threw Castiel a wave and a jaunty grin.
Castiel huffed out another heavenly breath and drew a winged heart in it.
Sam shuddered and turned back to his sandwich.
(It's rudhampaiel's fault, a little bit.)
Only kidding.
OR AM I.
"Oh Dean," Castiel whispered, a furrow gracing his angelic brow as he stroked his hand down Dean's delicate yet manly jawline. "I could stare at you with an air of slight bewilderment for hours."
He did so.
It was not at all awkward.
***
"Dean," Sam whispered, eyes fixed on the sandwich in his hands. "Dean. Castiel is... staring at you."
He indicated with a subtle tilt of his head in the direction of the window, which was also coincidentally in the direction of Castiel's face.
Castiel tilted his head at the attention. It made his nose squeak against the window glass, a sound which is surprisingly similar to silver bells and the laughter of fat babies with wings, who knew.
Dean grunted in a manly yet somehow vulnerable fashion, chewing on his burger.
Castiel pressed his hands up against the window, letting out a lovesick sigh that was softer than the beat of angel wings. It fogged up the glass.
Sam stared as, without blinking, Castiel pulled his head back just far enough to wipe the glass with his hand and then returned his nose to its window-flavoured resting place.
"Should we," Sam began. "Should we - get him something to eat?"
Dean swallowed. "Naw," he said. "He does this sometimes. He'll wear himself out." He glanced up at the window and threw Castiel a wave and a jaunty grin.
Castiel huffed out another heavenly breath and drew a winged heart in it.
Sam shuddered and turned back to his sandwich.
(It's rudhampaiel's fault, a little bit.)