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Meg isn’t really sure how it happens.
One minute Castiel is tugging her through the garden outside of the hospital, his fingers squeezing hers a little too tight. The next, there are flowers in her hand and her angel is staring at her almost shyly, looking half a child despite the fact that he’s wearing a grown man and has been alive for far longer than anything else on Earth.
She looks down at the flowers and fights the urge to throw them on the ground, and does not have the heart to tell him that they’re only weeds.
Roots and dirt still cling to half the dandelions in her hands, and she sees a bug crawling over the petals. Instead, she humors him and presses them to her nose, takes a dramatic sniff, and nods.
“Thanks, Clarence,” she says.
He beams at her and takes a step closer. The body he’s wearing is taller than hers, so he has to stoop to be face to face with her. She tries to step away from him, preparing to explain personal space to him again, but his hands wrap around her waist before she can. He’s stronger than he looks, his grace crackling just under his borrowed skin. Meg freezes for a moment, suddenly afraid that this is it, that he’s having an episode and will kill her.
Instead, he kisses her.
It’s quick and hesitant and dry, and over in less than a second, more of a peck than a kiss. Castiel’s smile doesn’t fade.
Meg blinks. “What the Hell, Clarence?”
Castiel doesn’t answer. He removes his hands from her waist, ruffles her hair, and turns to walk around the garden some more, leaving Meg there with her flowers.
.
She decides to ignore the incident, and forgive him for it. After all, she still isn’t sure if Castiel really knows what he’s doing. Even if he does, the kiss felt more like a little boy’s first attempt at kissing than a grown man’s kiss, so it is easily forgotten.
Not that Meg would ever admit to remembering those first, fumbling kisses thousands of years ago in a little village that the world’s forgotten.
Regardless, it isn’t anything for her to worry about. Or so she thinks.
“You have to go to sleep,” Meg tells him later. “Or at least pretend to. Unless you want the doctor to try to drug you again.”
Castiel smiles at her from his bed. “I promise to pretend to sleep if you kiss me.”
Meg stares at him, shocked. Either he is less out of it than he pretends to be, or the manipulative part of her angel is coming back.
She tests the waters. “Why?”
“I kissed you,” he says. She hears a bit of a whine in his voice. “That’s what you do, when you love someone. To show them.”
Meg fights the snort bubbling in her. “You’re still crazy. But, yeah, alright. If you promise to sleep. I’ll indulge you. Just this once.”
He beams at her. “Thank you.”
She leans down and kisses him softly, keeping it chaste. He looks slightly disappointed when she pulls away.
Meg ignores it and bids him goodnight. She tries to convince herself that a little kiss is harmless, especially in the state he’s in. It’s puppy love, and nothing more, and will be easily forgotten when he’s back in his right mind. Until that happens, she can deal with his flowers and his boyish affection.
She can’t ignore that her chest feels warm and that her lips feel entirely too clean for her liking.