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“Hey, Cas?”
“Yes, Dean.”
The response that came was stated, not asked, in that formal way unique to the angel. Dean didn’t blink at that- it was wholly typical. What made him reconsider asking his question was the warmth behind the simple acknowledgement.
Cas had yet to look away from the screen, but his tone was fond and he appeared at ease, even slouched over a bit as he was consumed by the documentary. Eventually, Dean shifted on the bed and cleared his throat when it happened again, deciding to carry on.
“Why d’you keep doing that?” Now it was Cas’ turn to blink, finally pulling his gaze from the laptop and tilting his head. Dean swallowed when the squinting blue eyes bore into him, the gaze intense as usual.
“What is it that I’m doing?” As he spoke, the angel did it again- the tiniest shrug, which was an oddly human gesture no doubt picked up from his past decade living with the Winchesters. The shrug wasn’t the issue. It was-
“That. Why do you keep doing that?” The frowning squint deepened.
“Why do I keep… moving my shoulders in response to external stimuli? That is something that humans do, correct?” Dean huffed.
“No, dumbass, why d’you keep… y’know. That.” To emphasize his point, Dean gestured vaguely with his hand at Castiel's own.
“…No, Dean, I do not know.” With a groan, the human tipped his head back and reclined slightly, Cas’s piercing eyes following his every motion unblinkingly.
“Why are you- why d’you keep touchin’ me?” The squint did not lessen.
“Have I made you uncomfortable, Dean? My apologies. I understand if you would like me to leave-”
“Dude, no. No, it’s fine. I just- I wondered why, is all. You don’t gotta go anywhere. Forget I asked.”
Cas’s expression finally shifted, the frown softening ever so slightly as he settled back into his former cross-legged position on the bed. His knee knocked softly against Dean’s and he looked down, shuffling almost imperceptibly to put some distance between them.
Dean just shook his head and moved his own leg, stopping the angel’s movement.
“That kinda thing’s fine. I mean, I sat on you that one time. I mean- not sat, sat- but I just-” The human floundered slightly until he saw Castiel’s raised brow. He swallowed and got back on track.
“It’s the little- it’s the hand thing. It don’t upset me, but it’s kinda like… chick-flick-y?” Cas’s expression didn’t illuminate with understanding and Dean groaned again before continuing.
“Like, you know how on TV, the guy asks the chick out and they go to the movies? Then when they reach for popcorn and bump hands, they get into this staring contest that’s either charged as hell or super awkward, depending on their chemistry ‘n stuff?”
Finally, the angel nodded slowly; his eyes had yet to leave Dean’s face, but his expression cleared into something more neutral, if slightly apprehensive.
“So these touches are ‘chick-flick-y’ and you would like for me to stop?”
Dean couldn’t quite stop the chuckle that escaped him at Cas’s air quotes. “Nah, man, you don’t have to stop. Like I said, it don’t bother me. It’s just sorta… cheesy?”
“I understand.” His response was neutral, but Castiel’s face betrayed the slightest hint of trepidation still, even as he turned his eyes back to watch the laptop screen with great intensity. The screen was now playing nothing and instead displayed, ‘Are you still watching?’
Dean leaned forward, attempting to catch Cas’s gaze again, then bumped him gently with his elbow when the attempt failed.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on, Casanova? I told you it didn’t bother me, right?” Cas still wasn’t looking at him.
“Yes, Dean, you did say as much. I am fine. May we continue watching?”
“Dude. You’re not as good at hiding shit as you think. Spit it out.”
Finally, the angel met Dean’s eyes, searching for something. When all he found was curiosity tinged with concern, he took in a deep breath and sat up straighter.
“You recall my telling you that, as an angel, my true form is vastly different from the one you are able to perceive?”
“Yeah. Hundreds of eyes, wheels of fire, wings, all that?”
“Not hundreds, and they’re cycles of celestial intent and direction, burning with energy-” Dean’s unimpressed look made Castiel pause and roll his eyes with a huff. “Fine. Fire. I say this because your soul isn’t much different from my true form.”
“What, like… my soul has wings? That sounds badass.” It was Cas’s turn to groan now, though fondly.
“No, Dean, your soul does not have wings-”
“Fuck.”
“-but it does extend beyond the confines of your physical body. As does my true form.”
“Uh, okay. I got it. But what’s that gotta do with the hand thing?” The angel shifted and looked down, almost seeming shy.
“Your soul and my form… reach for each other.” Dean swallowed.
“So, what, we’re holdin’ hands in another universe?”
“No. Same universe, just outside your acuity. Humans cannot perceive it, but I’m able to sense it just as shrimp are capable of seeing more colors than human beings.”
“Dude. Shrimp? You really gonna start with the shrimp thing while talking about your angel form and my soul holdin’ hands?”
“Shrimp are fascinating creatures, Dean.”
“Yeah, yeah, I watched that ocean documentary you made me suffer through-”
“You did not ‘suffer,’ you spent the full two hours saying how pretty and blue it was and how badly you wanted to go to the beach someday.” Cas squinted at Dean, affronted, only for a moment before they both smiled softly and looked away, amused.
After a few seconds had passed, Dean sat up a bit and looked at the angel again, this time gently nudging him with his hand.
“Cas?”
“Yes, Dean?”
“What’s my soul look like?” Cas’s eyes widened, and for once he appeared to be at a loss for words.
“Dean, I’m not sure-”
“Dude, if it’s like, broken and rotten ‘n shit, you can tell me- ‘s not like I can change it. But I’m curious.” The angel’s eyes widened even further, something almost akin to horror on his face now.
“Dean, no. Your soul is not broken. You are not broken. Your soul, it’s-” his voice cut off and he swallowed, looking down again momentarily. When he looked back up, his gaze was anxious but sincere and intense.
“Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
It was now Dean’s turn to be at a loss for words. It wasn’t a feeling he liked, though, so he chose to laugh dismissively rather than display just how much Cas's admission affected him.
“Really, man? You’re an angel. You’ve been around hundreds of years-”
“Thousands.”
“Yeah. An’ you really expect me to believe that my soul is the most beautiful thing ever, of all the stuff you’ve ever seen?”
“Yes.”
The human’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the open, nearly reverential look on Castiel’s face, the tops of his ears burning as he tipped his face down to look at his hands, fidgeting uncertainly.
Cas bit his lower lip for a moment, considering, before hesitantly reaching forward and putting the lightest touch on the back of Dean’s left hand. The fidgeting stilled, but Dean didn’t pull away, so the angel let his hand rest fully against the hunter’s. Eventually, Dean looked up.
“Is there any way to explain it? To a human?” The hunter's voice was tentative but earnest, and Cas opened his mouth twice before finally speaking.
“Your soul is… indescribable. It is fluid, constantly in motion. It is vibrant. It is focused, intense-” he paused to let out a small groan of frustration. “Human words are simply too limited to ever convey the true… boaluahe I see in your soul. But perhaps I could express what emotions your soul exudes?”
Dean simply nodded, a lump caught in his throat.
Cas took in a deep breath and looked down at his hand, still covering Dean’s.
“Courage. Righteousness. Determination. Turmoil…”
The hand on Dean’s tightened slightly as the angel hesitated, still looking down.
“…Fear. Desire. Sorrow. Restlessness. Longing.”
Finally, Castiel met Dean’s wide eyes.
“Affection, and… Boaluahe. Love.”
For a long time, Dean and Cas simply looked into each other’s eyes as if they could both see all the way into the other’s soul, though only one of them could- the same way they’d done since the moment they met.
Finally Dean came to realize how close they’d leaned into each other, and he drew in a small breath as he flicked his eyes down to the angel’s lips, licking his own. He noticed how Cas unconsciously mirrored the action.
“So all that,” Dean started, his voice low and quiet, husky. He paused to clear his throat. “All that’s what I feel? Or what you feel because of me?”
“Well… I do suppose it could be both.”
“Yeah? Even that last one?”
“Especially the last one.” The angel finally looked down again, his own voice now as quiet as Dean’s. Uncertain.
The human let out a small hum before slowly running his thumb against the side of Castiel’s hand. Startled, Cas looked back up, his blue eyes wide and inches from Dean’s own.
“You know me, I like seein’ things to believe ‘em. So… wanna prove it? Just how amazing you think my soul is?”
The angel parted his lips slightly, and suddenly Dean was desperate to feel them against his own.
“Yes.”
That’s all it took. They leaned forward in tandem; it started off gently, chaste and warm and sweet, but in the space of a breath, Cas decided to show just how much fervor he had for this human’s soul. When the kiss deepened as a result, Dean let out an involuntary moan, causing the angel to smile against his mouth.
Not once did their hands stray from each other; instead, they intertwined as their free hands were used to grasp at a trench coat, to card through sandy-blonde hair, to brush against a stubbled jaw, to grip a left shoulder like a lifeline.
It felt like home.
By the time they finally came up for air, they were tangled and half laying down; the laptop was on the floor, undamaged but decidedly ignored.
Both men took a moment to catch their breath, relaxing into the bed, before Dean gave Castiel another soft kiss and pressed his forehead against the angel’s, their eyes closing contentedly.
“Hey, Cas?”
“Yes, Dean?”
“That was fuckin’ awesome.” Castiel couldn’t hold back a laugh and wide, gummy smile, his eyes opening and meeting Dean’s. The forest green gleamed happily, the ocean blue shone just as brightly.
“Yes, it was.”
Sometimes words just can't compare to touch, though, and they resumed doing just that for hours, until Sam barged into Dean’s room without knocking to finally get his laptop back.
"Dean, gimme back- wait, Cas?! I just wanted- damn it, Dean! Lock the door, or put up a tie-"
"Dude, what the hell? Out! Bitch!"
"Jerk!"
The loud slam of the door was followed by a beat of silence before Dean started laughing, soon followed by Cas who tried (and failed) to muffle it by pressing his face into Dean's chest.
Poor Sam.