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Castiel stares at the sky and wonders if he was ever one with it. Sometimes he feels like he was, in some previous life he doesn’t know. Sometimes he feels like a bird with it’s wings clipped, meant to be so much farther out in the sky but instead stuck down on the hard ground.
He lays on the ground with his head in the grass and stares at the sky and wonders if it’s normal to feel so alien. Sometimes he thinks that it must be, that everyone must feel out of place every once in awhile. But then other times he sees everyone around him, and he can tell that they all belong in a way he never will.
Sometimes it makes him sad, this feeling of his. The feeling of being so much more than he is. He feels as though he’s pure light, nothing but energy and light and sound. He feels as though he has wings, greater and more beautiful than any others before. He feels as though he’s a soldier, a warrior, but with nothing to fight for. He feels as though he’s a million different things, and he can never quite figure out what to do with the fact that he isn’t actually any of those things.
And so he lays on the ground with the grass tickling his back and stares at the sky, just stares and stares and stares until he eventually feels something lay down beside him. Or rather someone .
He doesn’t even have to turn to see who it is. “Dean,” he says.
“Cas,” Dean says back. And then there is silence.
For a while they stay like that, laying side by side in the grass. Dean is quiet, even if he does occasionally fidget, and Castiel keeps the peace right along with him.
Eventually though, Castiel’s mind begins to wander as it always does. He can’t help but begin to think of Dean.
Dean, who he thinks must be a living flame. Dean who always seems to burn with passion, Dean who is always so warm to everyone around him.
Castiel knows that at times he may come off as cold and uncaring, has had it said to his face, and he thinks that Dean must be the opposite of that. In all of the time that Castiel has known him, since they were kids, not ever has Dean not had some sort of emotion laid out across his body like a map. It is in the set of his shoulders, the way he stands, how his smile can either light up a room or suck the light from it.
Dean is a wild fire, and never once has Castiel witnessed Dean without that flame dancing behind his eyes. It is a sight he hopes never sees the light of day.
He is suddenly broken out of his thoughts by Dean resting his head on his shoulder. It is not uncommon for the two, they have always been affectionate towards one another, but lately Dean had seemed tense whenever they got close. Castiel had figured that Dean must have realized that the way they touched was not necessarily how friends touched.
Castiel had realized a while ago, it would have been difficult to ignore after Gabriel had sat him down and explained it to him, but he had made his peace with it and was content to act like nothing had changed. For him, those small touches meant so much. They made him light up inside, filled him with a fire he never wanted to put out, and he wanted to enjoy them for as long as he could.
But now Dean has his head on his shoulder, and all Castiel wants to do is lay there forever, just relishing in Dean’s touch.
And then Dean takes Castiel’s hand in his, and his mind goes blank. Dean is a fire, a dancing flame, and currently Dean is doing a very good job at setting Castiel on fire too. Castiel is set alight with every place Dean’s skin meets his own, and all he can do is try his best to not show just how much he enjoys it.
“Cas,” Dean says, breaking their shared silence.
“Yes?,” he asks, and his heart beats an unsteady rhythm while it awaits Dean’s next words.
“Would you ever— would you maybe consider— have you ever thought about— “ Dean stutters, and Castiel is almost too afraid too look over at him. He does it anyway though, and finds that Dean is already facing him, and blushing a vividly bright red, redder than any other blush Castiel has ever seen on Dean.
“Yeas, Dean?” he asks, and their faces are so close, breaths lost between them. Castiel’s lips ache to find Dean’s own.
And then, ever so slowly, eyes never leaving Castiel’s own, Dean is leaning in. His lips meet Castiel’s, and the kiss they share is so soft, so sweet. Castiel savors it; he has known for a long time about his feelings for Dean, but he had never dared entertain the idea that Dean might feel the same.
Eventually, Dean leans back, his eyes searching Castiel’s for just a moment before they turn towards their hands, still linked together. “Is that a yes?” he asks, though he never voiced the question.
Castiel knows the answer anyway. “Yes,” he says.
And then he is leaning in once more, and so is Dean, and the rest of the world falls silent as they lose themselves in one another.