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It is late January and they are finally taking down the Christmas decorations. It's been her first Christmas with the boys and she has insisted on celebrating, even convincing them to take a few days off. But right after New Year's Dean had found a case right across the country in Seattle and they decided to go there immediately, taking Castiel with them. After taking out two werewolves they've headed to New Mexico for a simple Salt and Burn and then Sam had read a suspicious newspaper article about a possible witch situation that kept them occupied for a week and a half, only to find out that their “witch” was actually very human and just very insane.
Now that they are finally back in the Bunker, Cas and her are cleaning the rooms, while Sam and Dean are out hustling. She has never been good at pool or card games and it is hard to keep a straight face while Dean plays a pretentious drunk. She isn't in the mood for crowded bars anyway, not after almost three weeks of dirty motel rooms and cheap restaurants. And somebody has to clean the Bunker.
She isn't surprised that Cas wants to help, after all he isn't the most sociable being, but she would quite like a little while to herself. The angel's presence confuses her, makes her shy for some reason. She has been with the boys for eleven months now and with Sam and Dean she's relaxed and laid-back. They get along very well and she has long accepted all the peculiarities that come with the life – even the way they make money. But with Cas it's different. He isn't as open as the boys, doesn't talk much about himself. But besides the many mysteries surrounding the angel, he is a cute little goofball, always seeming a little bit off and taking things far too literally. She likes him, a little too much maybe, but she would never admit that to anyone.
“(Y/N)? Where are you?”
“In the library!,” she calls back and it takes only seconds for the angel to stand next to her.
“Do you want to keep these decorations for next year or do you want me to throw them away?” Castiel nods towards a big box full of baubles, tinsel, straw stars and little wooden figures in his arms.
“Keep them,” she replies, suddenly nervous. When has she last talked to Cas in private? They had always shared a motel room with Sam and Dean, went out for dinner with them, rode in the same car (Castiel's pimpmobile had a broken tire and Dean hadn't gotten around to fix it yet) and there wasn't much time to talk while trying to put a silver bullet into a werewolf.
“Okay. Where do you want me to put it, though? Which storage room?” She looks up into his blue eyes, a mistake as she quickly realizes. Aside from the Impala's backseat they haven't been this close in weeks. And in the car she didn't have enough energy to take a closer look at him after an exhausting hunt. She had forgotten just how blue his eyes are. Bluer than the ocean, bluer than the sky, bluer than anything she could ever imagine. She could keep staring at them for eternity, maybe drown in them but it would be a happy drowning -
“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” The eyes get smaller as Castiel squints. She blinks. 'Oh, come on! That's not fair! Not the head tilt!'
“Sorry, what did you say? I was just -” But she leaves the sentence unfinished. What is there to say? 'I was happily drowning in your eyes?' Better not.
“I wanted to know where to put these decorations.”
“Oh, you know...just...throw them into room 5A.”
The angel is still looking slightly confused. “(Y/N), if I throw them, they'll break. They're made out of glass, you know that, right?”
“Wha- Yeah. Sure.” She sighs. Does he have to take everything she says literally? “Just put them into room 5A .”
Castiel disappears again and she continues to put all the decorations they had put up in the library into boxes. Now that the angel has left the room her head is clear again. But she can still remember the dizziness, the sudden storm of feelings, all the butterflies that creep into her stomach when Cas is around. She has been feeling like this for quite a while now but she never admitted it, not even to herself. This has changed, however, on their werewolf hunt. They had been out in the old barn, trying to find clues, when it happened.
-
“(Y/N), watch out!,” Dean cries but it's too late. She is pushed onto the floor, a heavy weight on her back. She can hear the cracking of a bone when a sharp pain shoots up her left arm. She has lost the gun while falling and it's slid across the floor, out of her reach.
“Leave her alone!,” she hears Sam's voice when the man turns her around. His mouth is opened and she can see the sharp teeth. His right hand is on her throat, the other one rips open her clothes and leaves scratches on her skin, trying to get to her heart. She fights, tries to push him off. But he doesn't care about her fingernails digging into the flesh of his arms. He is sitting heavily on her legs, pressing them down. Then his sharp nails split the skin on her cheeks and she screams.
Suddenly there is a gunshot, so loud her ears start ringing. The werewolf lets out a sharp cry and falls onto her. This all happens in only a few seconds. She can't breathe, can't move. Her left arm hurts as well as her face and chest. Finally the weight is lifted from her and she looks up into Sam's face, breathing heavily.
“Get down!,” somebody shouts and Sam shields her from the other werewolf. Then there is a bright white light; so bright she has to close her eyes. She hears another heavy thump and when she opens her eyes the light is gone. Sam helps her up and she groans in pain, can barely stand. Her attacker lies face-down on the floor, blood slowly dripping from a wound in his back. The other werewolf – a young woman – lies only inches away from the broken window, her eyes burned out and bloody. Castiel is standing next to the body but as soon as Sam helps her up he darts over to them.
“(Y/N)! Are you alright?,” he asks concerned.
“No, obviously she isn't, Cas!,” Dean snaps angrily. “(Y/N), did he bite you?,” he then wants to now.
She can see the worry in his face. If he'd bitten her, there is no way back. But she shakes her head. “Didn't get me.”
Castiel steps forward. “Let me help you.” She closes her eyes as his hand touches her forehead. A warm feeling spreads from his hand into her face, chest and arm and she can hear bones cracking again, though this time without pain.
“Thanks, Cas,” she mumbles and opens her eyes. The angel is smiling down at her. His blue eyes are shining. The full moon from outside only lights up half of his face while the other half is in the dark. He looks truly beautiful and definitely not human, no human could ever be this astonishing.
-
Later she had fallen asleep in the car and when she woke up again, she was lying stretched out on the backseat of the Impala, her head in Castiel's lap. They hadn't talked and when she realized what was happening, she had happily pretended to be asleep for ten more minutes until Dean pulled the car over to get some gas.
Since that night something has changed. Not in her relationship with Cas, the angel is still the same; polite but mysterious as always. No, something has changed inside her. Whenever Castiel is around she is feeling excited and happy and safe. Not that she had felt unsafe before but knowing that Castiel is there, ready to fix up her and the boys after a hunt and occasionally taking down a monster himself, is reassuring.
She smiles when she closes the last box. She wouldn't ever be able to admit that she is feeling more for the handsome angel than friendship. She doesn't want to risk the thin bond that has been building itself between her and the angel in the last eleven months. She doesn't want to scare off Cas. She wants him to be her friend, even if that means never actually getting close to him. But when she turns around now, she gasps for air. Castiel is standing in the door, a mistletoe above his head.
“Don't move!”
“What?” He stops, staring at her in utter confusion.
“I said, don't move!” Castiel still seems confused but he stands still, eyeing her questioningly.
“What is it?,” he wants to know, almost whispering.
She isn't superstitious, not enough to be afraid of Friday the 13 th or black cats. But standing under a mistletoe without being kissed? She doesn't want to risk the bad luck.
“There is a mistletoe above you head,” she whispers back.
Castiel tilts his head back to look at the thin twig. “Oh,” he says then and is about to step into the room, when she yells “STOP!!” He stops, tilts his head and squints at her. 'He must think I'm mad...'
“What is it?,” he asks again, a little more impatient this time. “It's just a mistletoe, it doesn't do anything.”
“It brings bad luck.”
“It does what?”
“When you stand underneath a mistletoe you need to be kissed because if you step out unkissed, bad luck will befall you,” she explains and puts the box she is holding on the floor. It does sound a little strange, she must admit but she doesn't want to risk anything.
Castiel's eyes narrow even more but he stands still. “I don't understand. How can a twig bring bad luck?”
“It's...tradition.” She doesn't know how to explain it, just that it is like this.
“Mhm.” The angel doesn't sound convinced.
“If you...” She starts walking towards him. “Hm, if you...don't want bad luck...maybe I should...”
“Should what?,” asks Cas as she approaches him.
She stops only inches before him and looks up into that perfect face, again feeling like she drowns in his eyes. “Kiss you?,” she breathes, suddenly feeling insecure. Maybe this isn't the best idea. “Or not,” she says quickly, taking a step back.
“I don't want bad luck, I've had enough of that already,” Cas mumbles and she gathers courage again.
“Let me help you then?”
The angels hesitates, then nods. She steps forward, puts her arms around his neck and gently pulls his head down. 'Has he ever been kissed?', she wonders as she closes her eyes and presses her lips against his. They're soft, softer than she's expected. The stubble on his chin and cheeks feels rough on her face but she doesn't mind. Castiel smells good, like honey and soap and old books. She feels his arms slowly wrapping around her waist, pulling her even closer so their bodies touch. Castiel is big and warm and she can feel his muscles underneath her hands on his back. She thinks about his eyes; eyes so blue every sapphire would be jealous. She is sure that they're aren't his vessel's real eyes, they can't be. Maybe whatever makes an angel an angel can be seen in their eyes. She has never seen another angel, so she doesn't know what their eyes look like. The only thing she knows is that she is standing in the bunker, her home, in the middle of the library, kissing the man she knows she loves. If this is Castiel's first kiss – and the thought that it might not be makes her jealous – he is doing very well. She isn't even sure if she's really standing anymore; maybe they're already flying, flying high above the city and into the night -
“Hrm, hrm,” someone clears their throat behind them and they break the kiss. “Are we interrupting something?”
“Dean, don't be so rude!”
She can feel her face getting hot. Sam and Dean are standing in the door to the War Room, grinning like idiots.
“It's not what it looks like,” she tries but the boys keep grinning.
“I didn't want bad luck,” Cas' voice comes from behind her.
Sam frowns. “Bad luck?”
“Yes. There is a mistletoe -”, Cas points up, “- and (Y/N) said whoever steps out unkissed will have bad luck.”
Sam and Dean look at each other, still grinning and visibly trying not to laugh.
“Okay...then we better leave you two alone now. Don't forget to take the mistletoe down, though, we don't want to risk anyone getting bad luck.”
Her face is still burning while the brother turn around and walk to their rooms. They can hear their laugh echoing through the hallways. She turns around, not looking at Cas. “I'll go to bed.”
“(Y/N)! Wait!” Cas has stepped into the library, warily eyeing the little twig above the door. “Thank you,” he says honestly. And then: “Don't listen to them, they're just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what exactly?”
“Of me. Sam and Dean have never kissed such a pretty woman before. Not that I'm saying that the girls they kissed weren't -” But she cuts him off mid-sentence, pressing her lips to his again. What did she ever do to deserve this wonderful angel?