Wings
The first time he'd seen those shadowy wings, Dean had been scared. He'd never admit it, no way in Hell, but the sight of the angel who rose him from perdition had been something of an eye opener for Dean. He had never had faith, and he had never believed, not like Sam, and yet here he was, raised and alive, and his best friend was a god damn angel.
Dean often wondered just what the wings looked like, the real things and not the shadows he'd seen. Maybe they didn't look like anything. Maybe they were, in fact, shadows. Maybe they were invisible, or maybe he just couldn't see them because humans had such a limited range of sight and thought that even looking at those would be out of his range of ability.
Castiel watched Dean when he looked at him that way. Sometimes, he wondered if Dean was about to ask a question, and of course he could pry into his mind if he ever felt the desire to know, but that was not how he would learn more of his friend. That was not how their friendship worked. Now, it was based on trust, and honesty, after everything he'd done, what he thought was necessary, he was lucky Dean would even look at him.
The angel cocked his head to the side in curiosity, and Dean's glazed look faded out for a moment of them simply looking at each other. Dean looked away first, he always looked away first, and it was never certain if it was discomfort or something else that made Dean turn away. Perhaps it was anger, Castiel could not read Dean so perfectly as Sam could, no one ever would be able to, and yet he was more than happy to try on some days.
Dean found his gaze on a bird nearby, as he leaned against the Impala, Sam asleep in the front seat, Castiel just stood beside him. They were waiting for Garth to show up, and Dean watched the bird with the same thoughts about wings as he had before. Did Castiel's have feathers and flap like a bird's? Was the noise of flapping wings that haunted his dreams the memory of Castiel pulling him out of Hell?
The questions were ever constant, but Dean could feel Castiel watching him in the way that made his skin crawl. He never liked being singled out, not even at his own birthday parties, and yet Castiel always seemed to pin him with a look.
"Quit it," he muttered.
"I don't understa--"
"You know what you're doing, Cas."
The resultant little hmph of a laugh was all the proof Dean needed that Castiel knew he was looking at Dean a little too hard, trying to figure him out like he did when he tried to work out a problem or how to work a microwave. It made Dean smile a little, to himself, and when finally Garth's truck was in sight, Dean turned to look at the angel.
"You go meet Garth, I'll wake up Sammy."
"All right."
"And Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?" The angel peered at him curiously.
Dean paused, eyeing the space around Castiel's shoulders curiously, before he just shook his head. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." Castiel simply nodded, after a pause, and turned to walk towards Garth's truck. Dean was a puzzle, sometimes, but Castiel enjoyed piecing him apart bit by bit.
Dean often wondered just what the wings looked like, the real things and not the shadows he'd seen. Maybe they didn't look like anything. Maybe they were, in fact, shadows. Maybe they were invisible, or maybe he just couldn't see them because humans had such a limited range of sight and thought that even looking at those would be out of his range of ability.
Castiel watched Dean when he looked at him that way. Sometimes, he wondered if Dean was about to ask a question, and of course he could pry into his mind if he ever felt the desire to know, but that was not how he would learn more of his friend. That was not how their friendship worked. Now, it was based on trust, and honesty, after everything he'd done, what he thought was necessary, he was lucky Dean would even look at him.
The angel cocked his head to the side in curiosity, and Dean's glazed look faded out for a moment of them simply looking at each other. Dean looked away first, he always looked away first, and it was never certain if it was discomfort or something else that made Dean turn away. Perhaps it was anger, Castiel could not read Dean so perfectly as Sam could, no one ever would be able to, and yet he was more than happy to try on some days.
Dean found his gaze on a bird nearby, as he leaned against the Impala, Sam asleep in the front seat, Castiel just stood beside him. They were waiting for Garth to show up, and Dean watched the bird with the same thoughts about wings as he had before. Did Castiel's have feathers and flap like a bird's? Was the noise of flapping wings that haunted his dreams the memory of Castiel pulling him out of Hell?
The questions were ever constant, but Dean could feel Castiel watching him in the way that made his skin crawl. He never liked being singled out, not even at his own birthday parties, and yet Castiel always seemed to pin him with a look.
"Quit it," he muttered.
"I don't understa--"
"You know what you're doing, Cas."
The resultant little hmph of a laugh was all the proof Dean needed that Castiel knew he was looking at Dean a little too hard, trying to figure him out like he did when he tried to work out a problem or how to work a microwave. It made Dean smile a little, to himself, and when finally Garth's truck was in sight, Dean turned to look at the angel.
"You go meet Garth, I'll wake up Sammy."
"All right."
"And Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?" The angel peered at him curiously.
Dean paused, eyeing the space around Castiel's shoulders curiously, before he just shook his head. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." Castiel simply nodded, after a pause, and turned to walk towards Garth's truck. Dean was a puzzle, sometimes, but Castiel enjoyed piecing him apart bit by bit.