Work Text:
He doesn’t mean for Dean to catch him sketching on a Thursday morning, hidden away in the corner of the library with a cup of coffee by his feet. Castiel had been sketching for several weeks now, his sketchbook filled with bees, flowers, Miracle, and, of course, Dean. Today, though, he’s drawing something different.
“Is that Jack?” Dean’s says quietly, a curious playfulness colouring his tone. Castiel jumps slightly, turning his head towards his voice. Dean is dressed for the day in his flannel uniform, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a few books in the other. Castiel softens at the sight of him, the man he loves, looking radiant even in the dimly lit corridors of the library.
He smiles and nods, weirdly embarrassed about being caught drawing. It was hardly a scandalous thing to be doing, but the moments he spent with his sketchbook always felt so private and intimate. Besides, he mostly drew Dean after all.
“I’ve been trying to capture his face for a while now,” he replies, pausing as Dean slides down onto the floor next to him, their knees knocking. “It’s much more challenging than I anticipated. I wish I had more photos of him.”
Dean crooks an eyebrow at him. “You guys have, like, the same face dude. Can’t be that hard,” he jokes, and Castiel scowls at him.
“I will admit we have striking facial similarities, but he’s…different. Brighter. Happier.” Castiel sighs, and Dean gives him a strange look.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
Castiel closes his eyes. He does, a lot, too much in fact. Each day it’s a dull ache, but some days it swells and pushes at his walls in an all-consuming manner.
“It’s silly, Dean,” he mutters, fiddling with his pencil between his fingers, “he’s here with us, and I feel him, I do. But…”
“It’s not silly, Cas,” Dean interrupts. He feels Dean’s arm wrap around his shoulders, squeezing Castiel into his side. He relaxes into Dean’s touch.
“I’ve lived thousands of years understanding the universe through complex and indescribable dimensions, through colours and feelings incomprehensible to humans.” Castiel realizes he’s rambling, but he lets himself speak.
“I didn’t realize how deep human emotion was until the first time I became human.”
He feels Dean tense beside him. It’s a sore subject, that time, particularly for Dean. Castiel has forgiven him probably a hundred times over, but Dean had yet to forgive himself. Perhaps he never would, but Castiel doesn’t mind reminding his love of his love.
Castiel nuzzles into Dean, trying to get him to relax. “When you found me working at the Gas-N-Sip, that’s when I knew what it feels like to be human.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asks, his voice quiet and tentative.
Castiel hums. “I…I was so happy that day, Dean. It was so strange – all it took was for you to be there, physically.”
“I don’t remember you being particularly happy to see me,” Dean laughs, and Castiel pokes his side.
“You know I don’t like surprises.”
Castiel takes a deep breath. “I missed you, of course, and I never stopped thinking about you. But right when I thought I had my life somewhat on track, like I could…I could make it on my own, it all flew out the window the second I saw you.”
“It felt like being on fire and doused with ice water all at one. I was happy, but I was scared of that happiness. That the stability I thought I had could be dismantled so easily like that.”
Dean is quiet beside him, but he’s relaxed. Castiel is relieved at that – the last thing he needs is for this to turn into an uncomfortable situation.
“But, even after all that, I think I learned that that feeling, that terrifying feeling, is actually the most beautiful feeling.” He turns his head to look at Dean, who’s already looking at him. He smiles fondly.
“It’s incredible how powerful just seeing someone’s face can be, isn’t it?”
Dean smiles back, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the way that Castiel loves.
“Is that why you keep drawing my face?”
Castiel’s eyes widen as Dean chuckles.
“I’ve caught you drawing a few times, but I never said anything. You always seemed very focused,” Dean explains, and Cas gives his best playful glare.
“What?” Dean shrugs, “It’s rude to interrupt.”
Castiel hums in agreement, but he feels that same embarrassment from earlier. Being human is so strange.
“So, you don’t think it’s weird, Dean?”
Dean laughs, the low rumble shaking through Castiel. The physicality of sensation like this never fails to catch Castiel off guard.
“Not even a little bit, Cas. I mean, I’d be a damn hypocrite if I did, considering I do it too.” Castiel swivels his head to look at Dean, whose face is composed and calm.
“You do?”
Dean takes a sip of his coffee, as if to avoid the question, and Castiel prods at his cheek to get him to answer. Dean rolls his eyes.
“Have you ever seen your entry in the bestiary?”
Castiel doesn’t know if he should admit that he has. It seems vain to want to see his own entry, especially since he’s no longer an angel, but curiosity had gotten the best of him.
“I have, yes, but only to fact check,” Castiel lies, and Dean gives him a knowing look.
“Well,” Dean starts, his hand finding Castiel’s, “I drew that picture of you.”
Castiel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “That was you?”
“Well, who else would it be? You know Sammy can’t draw for shit,” Dean laughs, and Castiel has to agree. He’s seen Sam try and draw during their research meetings, and it’s…abstract at best.
Castiel squeezes his hand around Dean’s. He remembers the drawing well – the dramatic shadows, the detail of his trench coat, and each individual feather of his wings. Some days he forgets that he had shown Dean his wings back in the barn, and it still surprises him to this day how impactful that has been on Dean.
“You were quite generous with your interpretation,” he mutters, and Dean scoffs. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked like one of Charlie’s comic book covers.”
“Just drawing it like I see it, Cas.”
They’re quiet for a moment when Castiel looks back down at his drawing of Jack. It’s not quite there yet, but Dean had recognized it, so he’s making progress.
“Why don’t we tell him to come visit?” Dean murmurs, and Castiel shakes his head.
“He’s busy, Dean. He will visit when he can.”
Dean huffs. “Too busy to see his dads? I don’t think so. C’mon, one prayer wouldn’t hurt. We can do it together.”
Castiel lets his head rest on Dean’s shoulder.
“I’d like that, Dean.”
And so, they stay like that a while longer, hand in hand. Their bodies are real in every way, and for a moment, for this moment, Castiel becomes a little less afraid of how real he is.