𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓮

My sketch -> Johnny’s render

Johnny’s sketch -> my render

Inspiration

Neat song that had me thinking about this idea since I heard it for the first time a few days ago. I'm glad to have expelled the parasite from my head

his eyes flick to yours, very serious. “yes?”

“you okay?”

“yes.”

you wait for him to say something else. he says nothing else.

then he leans, just slightly, closer to your shoulder.

you blink. “are you smelling me?”

castiel straightens so fast it would be funny if his face weren’t completely sincere. “no.” a beat. “yes.”

you stare at him.

he looks back, unashamed and somehow a little embarrassed, which is a complicated thing to manage with one face. “you smell pleasant,” he explains.

your brain goes wonderfully blank. “oh.”

“not in an alarming way.”

“great,” you say, trying not to laugh. “love that clarification.”

after that, you start noticing it: he sits beside you during research even when there are six empty chairs. he appears in doorways when you pass, head tilting faintly as if he’s caught some invisible thread of you in the air. once, while you were reaching for a book on a high shelf, he stepped behind you to get it first, and when his sleeve brushed your arm, he went very still.

you turned slowly, then. “cas.”

“i was assisting.”

“you were inhaling.”

his mouth parts. closes. “both things can be true.”

that gets you. you laugh, soft and helpless, and his expression gentles in response, like the sound is something he wants to keep but doesn’t know where to put.

one night, you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing lotion into your hands because the bunker air dries your skin out terribly. castiel stands near the doorway, watching with that quiet intensity that used to unsettle you before you learned it usually just means he’s curious. or worried. or both.

“it’s this, isn’t it?” you ask, holding up the bottle.

he steps closer. “yes.”

“you could’ve just said you liked it.”

“i did.”

“you said i smelled pleasant and not alarming.”

“that was accurate.”

you bite your lip to hide your smile, but it doesn’t work.

he notices. of course he does. and his gaze drops to your hands, then returns to your face, softer now. “may i?”

your chest gives a tiny, traitorous flip. “smell my hands?”

“yes.”

you should tease him. really, you should. instead, you offer him one.

castiel takes it carefully, his fingers cool at first, then warmer where they settle around yours. he bends over your hand, not kissing it—-just close enough that his breath brushes your knuckles, slow and reverent in a way that makes your stomach twist.

oh. that’s unfair. “cas,” you say, quieter.

he lifts his eyes. “is this uncomfortable?”

you swallow. “no,” you admit. too honest. “that’s kind of the problem.”

something shifts in his face, small but visible, like he’s filing that away with great care.

he doesn’t let go immediately. neither do you. and when his thumb moves once across the back of your hand, barely there, you realize he isn’t there just to smell the lotion anymore. maybe he never was.