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Hannah had learned a great deal about Earth since being cast out from Heaven. A great deal about humanity, as well.
She had known, throughout her long existence, about art and music and dance. As an angel, they seemed frivolous, aesthetically pleasing perhaps, but without use or substance. It wasn’t until walking amongst humanity that she began to understand the meaning behind them.
The grief and pain and rage that could move someone to song, and the method behind how they created that song. The sheer joy and excitement that drove people to dance, whether they were the only one dancing in a crowd or one of a hundred moving together. The unbelievable beauty and love that inspired a person to take up a brush or a pen and immortalize their muse on the page.
She learned the kindness of strangers, who would take the time out of their busy lives and often inconvenience themselves in order to help others. She learned of the protectiveness of friends and family, and the lengths that people would go to for the ones they loved. She learned of the uncomplicated wonder of children, and how they saw God’s greatest creation for the majesty that it was.
Hannah and Castiel had never been particularly close in Heaven; they were of two different orders, he a Seraph and she a Hashmal. The two of them rarely had the chance to interact, outside of her being one of the Hashmallim who happened to heal Castiel’s garrison after a mission. It wasn’t until they had both been manipulated and discarded by Metatron that they were able to really become family.
He had brought her to the Winchesters’ home, the former stronghold of the Men of Letters. He said it was the only place that he knew she would be safe while she recovered from Metatron’s attack. It was because of Castiel that she was able to open her mind enough to learn about all that she did.
She learned even more while she was there.
From Sam, Hannah learned humour. The angels didn’t often tell jokes, and Dean and Charlie’s references often confused more than amused her. But Sam carried with him a dry wit that was as clever as it was comedic. He also taught her, albeit unintentionally, about humanity’s perseverance. How even after a tremendous amount of pain and tragedy, that one could come out the other side and smile.
From Dean, she learned familiarity. The little things that made someone truly individual, like which songs they knew all the words to, because they sang it as often as they could. Like how they were allergic to strawberries, and hated the taste of cucumbers, and got very creative with cooking to try to find some way to include mushrooms in everything. How you could put a piece of your soul into your work, and how something as basic as a collection of metal and plastic and combustion could be beloved.
And then there was Charlie.
Hannah learned the most from Charlie.
She had thought she’d known about the joys of music and dance, but that was before Charlie had plugged her phone into a speaker and pulled Hannah up with her to dance to her favourite songs. She belted out the words, slightly out of tune, but so enthusiastic and happy that her soul glowed like a sun.
She had thought she’d known about young ones seeing the world with wonder, but that was before she realized that that also applied to those young at heart. She hadn’t yet seen Charlie’s eyes light up upon discovering something she loved. Nor had she heard the strength in her voice as she explained that love to anyone who would listen, whether it be a book or a movie or a game or anything, really.
She had thought that she understood humour from Sam. Sometimes, Charlie’s references made absolutely no sense to her, but it at least it seemed like she wasn’t alone in that. The others in the Bunker also often sported blank looks after certain jokes of hers. But she told other jokes more often than those – jokes that were cute and childish, or ridiculous, or even raunchy enough to make even Hannah and Castiel blush. She still needed Charlie to explain them from time to time, but she hadn’t yet failed to make her laugh.
She had thought that she knew about familiarity from Dean, but that was before she heard Charlie tell the story about how she and her mother used to go picking flowers when she was very young, and that was why she loved daisies so much, and how she had learned to weave them into delicate chains. That was before she found out that Charlie had a ring, set with an aquamarine – her birthstone, she said. It was a gift from her grandmother, the only tangible thing she had of hers. That was before she listened to her explain, for an hour, her personal ranking of almost thirty different fruits.
Personally, Hannah had to agree with her reasoning – mangoes were very good.
Angels were not without emotion. Heaven may have made it a point to control them, to keep their minds under control and their emotions dampened and turned only towards their mission. That did not mean that they did not feel.
Hannah hadn’t realized how strong emotions could be when they were allowed to run free.
She confessed this to Charlie one night, when they were sitting on the couch in front of the television. The credits were rolling after the movie they had watched, one that Charlie had insisted that they watched, a story of magic and darkness and a band of adventurers seeking to destroy evil.
She confessed that Charlie’s laugh was one of the most beautiful melodies she had ever heard. She confessed that the way the light shone off of her red hair was more captivating than any jewel ever Created. She confessed that every day, she had wished to hold her hand, and every day she stopped herself, because no one else in their strange family seemed to do so.
She confessed that she found herself staring at Charlie’s lips often, wondering what they would feel like against her own.
Charlie stared at her once she finished speaking, her eyes wide. A soft and rosy blush stained her cheeks; Hannah idly thought that it was a very good look on her. Charlie shifted in her seat, turning around so that she could face Hannah.
“For the record,” she said, “I’m totally okay with holding hands.” As if to prove it, she reached out and slotted her fingers between Hannah’s. “Just because all the dudes in this place are emotionally stunted dumbasses doesn’t mean I am.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, soft and uncertain. She was a little distracted by the warmth of Charlie’s palm against hers, but not distracted enough to fail to notice that her admissions hadn’t been addressed. Her pulse thumped in her vessel’s chest, driven by blood and grace alike. Her throat grew dry, despite her not needing to keep it wet as she would have if she were human.
“And as for, y’know, the rest of that,” Charlie said. She swallowed. “I… I guess I just didn’t know that angels could feel. That. Love, that is.”
“Before we Fell, I don’t think I would have said that we could. I don’t recognize this feeling within myself.” Hannah’s gaze dropped down to their clasped hands. “But I have learned a lot during my time on Earth.”
“I bet I could teach you more.” Hannah’s eyes flew back up to Charlie’s. Her tone of voice was not one of casual observation, but filled with a certain kind of promise. Her eyes, too, held hope and fire within them. She leaned in towards Hannah, but she didn’t fully close the space between them; regardless, Hannah’s breath caught in her throat.
“My heart is pounding,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Charlie murmured with a tiny smile. “That happens sometimes, in moments like this.”
Hannah never had the chance to respond, or at least, to respond with words. Her mouth was otherwise occupied. The warm press of her lips against Charlie’s, the way her arms wound around her shoulders. The way her own wings fluttered and curled around Charlie’s form…
It was better than anything she could have imagined.