#day03

He had snapped his fingers and removed all the dirt off his body and clothes, but you still had insisted he should take a shower, and he had understood it as he should take a shower in your room.

Well, there were worse things.

And as an angel he probably didn’t mind that your shampoo which you had offered to him smelled of grapefruit and not of something manly like… mountain smoke or something.

The TV was running in the background, but you hadn’t been paying any attention to the program, your focus instead on the grey trench coat Castiel had discarded on one of the beds.

Eventually curiosity got the better of you and you got up, limping over, to the coat and lifting it up. It was heavier than it looked, you realised, the fabric smooth under your fingertips and it smelled… of nothing really. Hm, you had always assumed it would smell like Castiel by now, but maybe he didn’t have a proper scent about himself. He was a celestial being after all. But what about his vessel?

Before you could continue wondering any longer, the sound of water getting turned off in the bathroom alarmed you, and you dropped the coat back onto the bed and limped over to your chair.

A moment later, Cas opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out. He was dressed completely in his suit again, making you assume he had put it on with a snap of his fingers. Did the angel even know how to tie a tie? He looked strangely… naked without his coat on. That was when you saw his hair was still dripping wet.

“Did you not dry your hair,” you asked, with furrowed brows as Cas stepped out of the bathroom and begun crossing the room.

“I like the smell,” he said, making you furrow your brows even further.

“Of your wet hair?”

“Your shampoo,” he corrected. “I don’t want it to go away. It’s my favourite scent.”

“It won’t go away from you drying your hair,” you told him, getting up again and limping over to the angel. “Did you even wash out the shampoo?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to.”

“Because of the scent?”

Castiel nodded only.

“Want me to help you dry your hair,” you offered even though you knew he could probably just snap his fingers and his hair would be perfectly dry and styled.

“Please,” Cas answered to your surprise and sat down on the bed, patiently waiting for you to grab a towel from the bathroom. You knelt on the bed behind him and wrapped it around his head, rubbing over his dark hair.

It felt strange, feeling how alive he was underneath your hands, and it was even stranger considering it was Castiel, who always behaved so coldly and redrawn from normal life.

“So… you like grapefruit,” you asked, trying to break the growing silence by smalltalk.

“Not especially,” Castiel answered, sounding indifferent as always.

“Hm? I thought it was your favourite scent,” you inquired.

“Not grapefruit, your shampoo,” Cas corrected you.

“But it is grapefruit scented.”

“I don’t like it because it’s grapefruit, I like it because it’s what you always smell like,” he explained, making you freeze. What? “I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, not… not uncomfortable,” you disagreed, slowly continuing to rub the cheap hotel towel over Castiel’s hair. “Just… surprised.”

“Why would you be surprised,” he asked curiously. “I thought it was rather obvious that I feel attracted to you.”

“Not really, no,” you admitted, trying to think of any time the angel may have expressed attraction towards you.

That time he had beamed you wordlessly back to the motel room you had shared with Sam and Dean after you had been stranded at the side of a road? The time he had woken you up, showed you that he had bought you pie and then had disappeared? Or the countless times he had woken you up from a beginning nightmare? It would be a lie to claim these instances hadn’t raised your interest in him, but it had never occurred to you, that he might have done it out of a special feeling of care towards you.

Castiel sat quietly for a while before asking: “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me,” you asked back.

“That I care for you.”

For a moment, you thought his words through. Castiel was an angel, and even though he had lived amongst humans for a while now, he still sometimes struggled with the nuances of human communication.

“You care for Sam and Dean, too,” you eventually answered, still not entirely sure whether his understanding of ‘caring for someone’ had the same romantic meaning as yours. “So no, it doesn’t bother me.”

“It’s different,” Cas disagreed. “Yes, I look after Sam and Dean, I don’t want them to get hurt. But it’s different with you… It seems like you constantly occupy my mind and even the thought of the possibility of you getting hurt- it, it scares me.”

Slowly you let the towel you had used to rub his hair dry sink to his shoulders.

“I feel the same way about you,” you admitted, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Surprised he turned around to you. “You aren’t mad?”

“No,” you chuckled, looking down on him, his beautifully blue eyes widened and a hint of a smile tucking at his lip. “But I also don’t know what to do from here on out.”

“What do people usually do, who care for each other,” Cas asked, honest curiosity in his question.

“They… they start dating, I suppose,” you answered, absentmindedly running your hand through his hair. It was still not completely dry, but soft between your fingers.

“Then let’s do that,” Cas decided, smiling at you encouragingly.

“Do you even know what dating means,” you asked amused. Not the kind of conversation you had expected yourself to have tonight, but also not unwelcome.

Cas hummed thoughtfully, turning his head away from you and leaning back so his back was resting against your front. He was warm, even through his suit, and his hair smelled off your shampoo.

JOHNNY WAS halfway through his third beer when the dizzy feeling settled in. He stumbled his way through the kitchen and out to the backyard. He hung his legs off the porch, inhaling the fresh air. It was too hot and way too crowded inside. He lay his cheek against his knee, eyes closing.

"Not the best place to sleep, Johnny." Dutch dropped down beside him, knocking against him. He smelled like vodka and oranges.

Johnny tilted his head just enough to look at him. "Not sleeping jus' restin' my eyes," He mumbled.

Dutch wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders and tugged him closer. His lips curled into the familiar smirk Johnny was used to seeing. "No I think you're tired. Getting too old to handle a party, hm?"

He rolled his eyes at Dutch's teasing, choosing to smack the boy's arm. "We're the same age asshole."

Dutch laughed, rubbing at his arm. "Well, drinking doesn't hinder your strength." He bumped their shoulders together. "Come on, we can go to my place. It will be quieter and have a better drink menu." Johnny truly wanted to be somewhere quieter, so he found himself agreeing.

Together the two left, a slight stumble in their steps as they walked. A breeze picked up, nipping at their exposed skin. Johnny could feel the blush settling on his face, cheeks bright pink.

Dutch shifted closer to him, his hand bumping against Johnny's. "S'cold.." He mumbled. Neither boy said anything as their fingers entwined. Dutch began to ramble about some comic he started. Though Johnny had a hard time focusing on his words. All he could focus on was Dutch's hand in his. It felt right. Their hands fit together so well. It was different compared to Allie's. Her hand was smaller and softer. Her nails were always perfectly done, coated in a pretty pink. Dutch's hand was bigger, rougher due to karate and all the fights he had been in. He could feel the raised skin from scars along the back of his hand. Yet he liked it. He liked holding Dutch's hand. Was he weird because of that? Dutch was one of his closest friends. He couldn't possibly like him.

"Johnny? Hello, earth to Johnny!" A smack to his shoulder had him returning to focus. He blinked at Dutch, glaring slightly. The other shrugged, smiling innocently. "What? You weren't answering. But we're here man."

Johnny looked up to the large house before them. The lights were on at the door but no car was seen. "My gran is on a trip. Just us here," Dutch explained. Johnny couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing yet.

He followed Dutch up the steps and inside. They kicked their shoes off at the door, Johnny left his neatly while Dutch left them sprawled out. Dutch led the way down the hall to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle from a cabinet shelf then turned to Johnny with that signature grin of his. One that usually meant trouble. "C'mon, I got something else too."

Johnny found himself in Dutch's bedroom sprawled on the floor as a movie played in the background. A blunt was passed back and forth between them. Johnny didn't smoke often, usually, he only did it with Dutch or Tommy. He had always preferred drinking. So his tolerance was low. The bottle of alcohol was eventually abandoned as the fuzzy feeling took over. He slumped back against the floor, tucking his arm under his head.

Dutch took the blunt to finish it off. His back was pressed against the bed, eyes looking down at Johnny. "Lightweight," he teased.

Johnny rolled his eyes, puffing out a breath. "Shut up," he mumbled. He shifted onto his side to look up at Dutch. "I don't understand how you can do that so much."

Dutch took a long drag, leaning down to blow the smoke into Johnny's face. His lashes fluttered, nose crinkling up. Dutch watched him. He had been doing that a lot lately. Johnny, no matter what, was constantly gaining his attention. "You're pretty." It was out before he could even think to stop himself. Johnny's eyes were back on him, wide with shock. Dutch took a moment before realizing what he did. Words stumbled incoherently from his lips trying to save himself. Johnny's laughter had him going quiet.

Johnny was smiling at him. His eyes were glazed but knowing. "You think I'm pretty Dutchy?" He fluttered his lashes intentionally.

The other boy groaned quick to look away. "You suck Johnny."

"And you think I'm pretty. Am I handsome too?"

He was teasing. Dutch knew he was yet he still found himself answering truthfully. He nodded. "Yeah, extremely so."

Johnny paused, eyes looking searchingly at Dutch. He knew Dutch was being honest but what did this mean? Where could it lead? "You mean it Dutch?"

He nodded, "I do."

Silence fell over them. Dutch looked away, twisting the bud between his fingers. He was scared. It was rare to see on Dutch. Johnny didn't like it. He shuffled to sit up, copying Dutch to lean back against the bed. He pressed their shoulders together. "I think you're handsome too," he confessed.

Dutch looked at him. "Yeah?"