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It was such a simple mistake, really. It could've happened to anyone!
Carelessly, you opened the door that you thought led to your room. All of the doors in the bunker were the same dull, boring gray color that never failed to get you lost when you had first moved in. Even now, after living in there for a few months, you occasionally opened a door into an.. unfortunate scene. The worst of them was when you stumbled across Dean perusing his favorite website; you could still feel his threatening stare. After that point, you made a mental note to remember which room was his. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly help in this circumstance.
God, if you had just paid a little more attention to your surroundings instead of going into autopilot as soon as Sam and Dean left for a hunt, this whole awkward interaction could've been avoided. You could've sworn that the brothers said they were bringing Castiel along.
However, said angel was sat on the bed with his back– or rather, wings– to you.
The first hint that this room wasn't yours should've been the ethereal being directly in front of you, but it was actually the completely blank walls. Blank everything. While this was technically Castiel's room, it was hardly more than just another empty storage closet with a bed, which he never really used anyway. Until now.
Your attention was quickly drawn to the sight of his wings, the emptiness of his room no longer intriguing you. You had never actually seen angel wings up close like this but lord were they a sight to behold. While they were certainly damaged from the fall, with feathers missing and various scars littering the visible surface, his wings shined with an inhuman glow. 'Angelic' would be an easy way to describe them, but it was so much more than that. Just from seeing his wings from a distance, you felt safe. Warm. Entranced beyond any comprehension. You didn't even realize you were moving closer until the floorboard creaked under your shoe. It seemed Castiel, so inside his own head, hadn't known either.
You froze, as if caught in the act of eavesdropping on a private moment, as Castiel slowly turned to look at you. He was only wearing his white button-down shirt and a loose tie. His suit jacket and trenchcoat lied on the bed beside him. Although his movements were smooth, you noticed the slight flutter of his wings, as if he were trying to teleport away. Unfortunately for both of you, he couldn't.
He noticed the quick glance you took from his wings back to his face, and although he may not have meant to, his posture slumped ever so slightly and his expression fell. He carried the death of heaven, angels, and humans alike on his back. Those broken wings would never let him forget the ones he had failed.
And you knew this. There was an unspoken bond between the two of you. He had your back regardless of the fight, whether physical or verbal, and you trusted his judgement because you knew he had good intentions. Everyones knows the saying about the road to hell, but you firmly believed he would never pave that path. However, arguably the most important part about your relationship was the fact that you forgave each other. Both of you had made mistakes in the past, and because of this, there was no pressure to be perfect; no pressure to always know what the right thing to do is. Human and angel alike, you shared in the blame and the pain. Maybe this was why you had grown so attached to the angel. For a being so pure and heavenly, he was so painfully human. You almost hated to admit it, but you had fallen for him. It ached at each of your bones every time you saw him, and it poked a tiny, little hole in your lung each time you spoke. Regardless of how far he had fallen from heaven and the other angels, he was so much and you were just human. Only human. You were lucky enough to be in his presence like this, but asking for anything more would be too greedy. Selfish.
You were shaken out of your thoughts by his low voice muttering your name, cracking at the very end like a man who had lived his whole life without water. Water, blue like those eyes of his. You could just get lost forever and ever in–
"Cass," you croaked, your words stuck in your throat. You could feel your whole face running hot as you registered what a deeply personal moment you had stumbled upon. God. This was awkward. Apologies tumbled out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. "I really thought this was my room, I'm so sorry. I always get mixed up with these doors. I should get a poster or something so this stops happening, right? Okay. I'm gonna go ahead and, uh, go. Next door. To my room."
No matter how close you were with Castiel, an angel's wings seemed like a very personal thing to suddenly intrude upon and witness. You hoped he wouldn't hold this against you, but he never did. He was forgiving like that and it killed you inside.
"Wait, please." He whispered that second word. Your heart seemed to stop for a moment. "You can stay, it's okay. I don't mind."
You looked into his eyes for a moment. It was okay.
A little awkwardly, you made your way over to the bed and sat beside him. It wasn't weird for long, though. As soon as you felt his familiar warmth next to you, the atmosphere returned to a typical hangout between the two of you.
"Are your wings.." You began, hesitating momentarily. "Do they hurt?"
"No. They just feel a little empty. Less than whole."
Castiel looked at you, but you were staring at his wings. Your expression must have given away your thoughts, because the next thing he said was
"You can touch them."
Your eyes widened in shock as your gaze flickered from his eyes to his wings, and then back again. Before you could even ask if he was sure, he simply nodded. So, you moved behind him on the bed and he returned to facing forward. You swallowed nervously.
Gently, you allowed your fingers to ghost over the top edge of his left wing, savoring the softness of the feathers and gliding across the scarred tissue that the empty space exposed. Castiel shivered slightly at your touch and a quiet hum left his lips, but he made no movement to stop you. You doubted his wings had been touched in a very long time, if ever.
You paid an equal amount of attention to both wings, remaining gentle as always. It was a rather tense moment, but never in a bad way. Your heart raced as it did every time you were near him and you dearly hoped he couldn't feel your pulse under your fingertips. It was a dead giveaway. Still, maybe even then he wouldn't be able to tell.
"So pretty," you unknowingly mumbled under your breath as you felt a particularly soft feather. Castiel's breath hitched. It was so odd, but just from your words, he could feel the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.
For a while, he had been so afraid of anyone seeing his damaged wings. He could barely even call himself an angel of the Lord anymore, even after all he had sacrificed to return himself to such status. The grace he had stolen, the pursuit and betrayal by Metatron, and finally, being viewed as a murderer and traitor by heaven. Obviously, it killed him to recall each of those things, and his wings were just a painful reminder.
Still, for some odd reason, the hurt from all of those moments combined paled in comparison to even the idea of a disgusted– or, God forbid, disappointed– expression on your face. He had no idea why he felt so horribly. Was this what it was like to truly be human? To dote on someone's reaction so heavily that it makes him feel like throwing up despite having nothing in his stomach? He couldn't imagine why one would ever want to feel this way.
No, that was wrong. He could imagine. He lived it. Even the anxiety and ache of his love for humanity (and, as he was soon coming to realize, his love for you) was worth the comfort and passion he felt when he was with his family. With you. His broken wings were his punishment, he was convinced. You made him consider that maybe, just maybe, he could be okay again. That one day, he might be able to fly.
Your head was leaning towards his left shoulder in an attempt to view his feathers closer. Coincidentally, Castiel tilted his head over that same shoulder to get a look at you.
Your eyes met his and you froze again. Maybe time stopped just for you. He was so much closer than he had ever been before– his face just inches away from yours. You stopped breathing.
Castiel was only focused on how the faint glow of his wings was reflecting onto your face. Those eyes, shining so bright. Even without the heavenly light, he knows they would still be shining. It was a quality of most humans, but especially you, that he admired most.
There were way too many things to even consider focusing on in that moment that you hadn't noticed him inching closer and closer, until he brushed his lips against yours.
It was shy, like he was testing the waters. Still, even from just the slightest bit of contact, you could feel the static pull of the universe. It felt like you were touching creation itself, the divine sensation of being.
You couldn't help yourself from encouraging him. You moved in a little closer, turning the casual bump into an actual kiss. It was an indescribable sensation. You felt like you were flying, but his cautious hand gently placed on your cheek kept you grounded. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the way his lips felt against yours, the softness of his wild hair, or how he took small, quiet breaths before leaning in for another kiss. You allowed your rampaging thoughts to quiet for a moment so you could focus only on him. Castiel.
Far too soon, he parted from you to pick up his buzzing cell phone.
"It's Dean." He sighed. There was no further explanation needed.
You, nodding in understanding, looked up at Castiel as he pulled his signature tan trenchcoat on. You wished he could stay longer. You couldn't help hoping this wouldn't be a one-time thing. And, judging by how Castiel looked at you, he was hoping the same thing.
"Thank you," he smiled. It was too cute. "Will you be here when I come back?"
You smiled too. It was contagious.
"Of course."
So, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to get a little lost.