Work Text:
Castiel, Angel of Thursday, had never held hands with anyone before. The mere idea that he would ever have a chance to touch another being had been inconceivable for eons. To be touched. To be loved enough that someone would want to hold hands with him. But here Dean was gently weaving his fingers between Cas’ anyways.
He was overwhelmed with feeling. Consumed by it. His thoughts were as soft as cumulus clouds. As light as the sun.
Before today, I'd never held hands with anyone.
And then, panicked—
Oh god, I’ve never held hands with a boy before what if I get pregnant?
Cas started to cry suddenly. Dean looked startled.
“Cas? What’s wrong?”
Between his tears, halfway-unintelligible. “What if I get pregnant?”
Still clutching Cas’ hand in his, Dean reared backward slightly. “Is that how angels—” He gestured wildly with one free hand, “—you know?”
Cas sobbed. No, it was not how angels procreated.
But Dean could no longer understand the angel sobbing beside him.
“What if you get pregnant? What if I get pregnant?” he said, panicking.
Cas wailed. “I didn’t even think about that!”