So I have this hc that when dean and cas are doing their whole staring-at-each-other-for-far-too-long thing, that cas is actually communicating with dean telepathically. He only does this with dean, and dean secretly likes that it’s their own special thing so doesn’t tell Sam. But when everyone else thinks they’re having eye-sex, they’re actually having their own private conversations. Feel free to write about this or not-no pressure either way❤️
HI, and first of all, I absolutely loved @xcaitlin-mayx 's headcannon, and was completely swept off my feet thinking of what direction I wanted to take ~ but then, uh, Life approached and I was thrown off my track. So, uh, I’m truly sorry for the really late answer ~ but I finally wrote something, and I really hope this is kind of what you had in mind, friend!
Edit: Posting this fic was a real task, because this is the third try, and it's finally ready. I'm sorry for the delay. And we need to thank the asker and @zoerayne2426 for their help in getting it here, after I lost it yesternight! Fic starts here:
***
Dean Winchester was pretty goddamn sure that he, Sam and Cas together were the best damn hunters in the World.
But not every hunt defines you as a hunter. Some days, you take out an entire coven of witches within a couple of days, or hunt down a century-old god, who had recently taken to being a dick.
Other days, a single vampire nest could take a long and tiring week, and you could still end up handcuffed to rusted barrels in an abandoned barn with your angel, trying to stall them from drinking you dead until your brother could figure out where the both of you were kidnapped to, and save the day.
“We aren’t giving Dean Winchester up in exchange for you, blue-eyes.” The apparent leader tossed her head, her attention completely taken by Cas. “Everybody knows you can’t sucking off an angel isn’t fun, right, gorgeous?” She added, in Dean’s general direction, making him want to knock her out even more than he already did.
If she wanted to make an innuendo, she didn’t even do that right.
“But that way, you’d at least have one of us.” Castiel reasoned, but Dean recognized his voice as insincere. At least he hoped. The plan was to waste time. Not give themselves over to dumb, evil bitches.
“What do you mean, right now, we have both of you?” She threw back.
“Not for long.” Dean spat, from his position on the ground. His hands were tied behind him, and he was unable to look up straight without the shooting pain at the back of his neck.
“If this is about Winchester XL, lemme just say, that he’s not coming to save you anytime soon.” She smirked.
Dean saw red, instantly. “Listen here, you -”
“Come on, Ken, you stay here with these two. I’m going to go take a look at the others,” She commanded, and the guy walked over in Cas’s general region, the proximity uncomfortable, as he waited wordlessly with his eyes on Dean, and his hand on the iron pole to which Castiel was tied - they had angel cuffs tying his wrists to chains and their bulkiest vampire assigned to the task, while Dean had been simply punched until he was rendered the equivalent of a sack of swearing potatoes and cuffed on the stone cold floor. It wasn’t exactly fair.
Moreover, the new guy didn’t look like he’d take any of their shit if they tried to negotiate him into a get-out-of-jail-alive card, and who was content enough to be a breathing stone pillar as he was told to be.
Oh, curse God for villains who didn’t monologue or had ambitions.
Listen!
A voice suddenly hissed at him, though he couldn’t hear it, and he raised his head harshly enough to get whiplash. He let it fall once more.
What was Dean’s conscience trying to tell him, right now? (Don't get caught by demons the next time, or you end up with a helluva crick in your neck?)
Dean!
The voice in Dean’s head usually used less flattering curse words for him. It didn’t call him Dean.
We can get out of here! Dean! Can you hear me?
Wait a fucking minute, this sounded like Cas.
And not in the my-family-is-my-voice-of-reason sense. Not even in the angel-on-my-shoulder sense.
Dean could, honest to god, hear Castiel’s voice in his head. It was not quite Jimmy’s voice though, it was all in all Cas! How Dean could tell them apart, he had no speck of an idea.
But - how?
You can hear me, can’t you?
Dean painstakingly raised his head to meet the angel’s eyes. Ken, or whatever his name was, wasn’t looking at Dean anymore, he was looking at Cas. Cas, on the other hand, had his eyes focused on Dean for sure.
Dean nodded, in response to the question from before.
Is it really you? He thought real hard, and saw Cas wince a little bit.
You don’t need to shout! We’ve already established that the connection is stable. And of course, it IS me.
Dean could feel his head whirring towards a more paranoid headache.
What connection, what the fuck is even happening? How are you doing this? He breathed.
Cas gave him a glare, that looked awfully like, that’s not a priority, though Dean didn’t hear it ring through his brain.
Dean. Listen to me. When these vampires were disarming me, I made sure to push my angel blade away. It’s got to be somewhere near you. You need to get it.
Dean instantly began to fumble around, clumsily. The vamp in the room turned sharply to him.
“Just an itch.” Dean excused, before going very still. This time, his eyes didn’t leave Dean. He still held onto Castiel’s iron chains.
Dean looked down at himself, to avoid eye contact. Are you sure it’s somewhere behind me?
There was no response.
No voices at all.
Dean looked up again, and suddenly Cas’s voice came in again. You need to keep looking into my eyes.
An involuntary heat rushed up Dean’s throat. He suddenly paid an extraordinary amount of attention to the blue, blue eyes of his friend. Castiel went on. I’m not an archangel, only they can communicate without it.
Dean swallowed, and forced a smile at the big lug who still glared at Dean, before he met Castiel’s eyes again. He was careful to not be expressive. Cas had it easy, he rarely looked like he meant something he said, or thought. He repeated himself. Are you sure it’s behind me?
No. Followed by a distinct, But you need to look. It's our only chance.
Dean almost nodded but remembered that the vampire still had his eyes on him, so stressed out an Okay.
Don’t scream your affirmations in my head, please. Castiel deadpanned, even his voice adorning a very Cas-like tone. Dean felt the twitch of a smile.
He began to look, much more subtle this time.
I’ve got it. He thought softly, before realizing he didn’t need to whisper in this - whatever the hell this kind of communication network was.
Use it.
Castiel didn’t even have to think it at him, his eyes did the job. A single touch of the blade to the ropes had them loosening. Hopefully not melting, though, but Dean couldn’t turn his head to see. Angel blades were apparently multi-utility tools.
Once the ropes were severed, it was Dean Winchester’s turn to shine. Ken got an elbow in the face, and a kick in the shin before Dean began to cut off Castiel’s chains, and when Ken showed up again and had Dean in a surprise headlock - what an ideal villain - Dean stabbed him with the blade, and deftly cut his throat off.
The tale of how the hunter and his angel, freshly freed and armed, got from there to the motel room, was one which has been told several times.
***
Sam was very much asleep when Dean and Castiel had time to talk, Castiel had healed him but he had bled out a lot, and Dean’s insistence that he take some rest, had resulted in sam beginning to use his laptop whilst on his bed - and soon slumping off to sleep, with it’s screen still lit.
Dean later shut down the computer, while Castiel pulled the sheets over his legs.
Being a hunter had very few perks, but it had several drawbacks, such as having to go out of the small room to have a serious conversation - lest you risk waking up your brother who, as all hunters, was prone to light sleep.
Dean almost pulled Castiel outside, and deciding that talking outside the door would be ridiculous, so they walked all the way outside the motel. Dean leaned against the impala, and Castiel stood straight and watched him.
At the moment, it had been easy enough to get over the realization, that he and castiel were communicating through thoughts. There was pain, and there was danger - and there was the factor of time.
Now under the starlit sky, it was just Dean and Cas, and like hell, there weren’t questions.
“Okay,” he breathed out. “What the hell was that, back in the barn? With the-” His eyes were wide with shock, when he met Castiel’s again. “With the goddamn mind reading, Cas!”
“I..” Castiel didn’t sound as sure as Dean would’ve assumed he was going to. “I just tried something. And it worked.”
“What did you try?” Dean pursed his lips.
“To see if I could tell you something,” Castiel was still uncertain how he would explain something like this to Dean. “Without saying it aloud.”
“Yeah, well, your dick-ish brothers and sisters have gotten into my head often enough,” Dean snapped. “This was different. I was in control too! I could send things back that route through!”
“I agree,” Cas nodded. “It was like a telepathic connection.”
“I’m not.. Psychic or whatever, Cas! I can’t do this shit, eye contact or not!” Dean recalled.
“Dean.” Castiel sounded more firm. “It was a moment of distress. Those vampires would’ve turned you, and found the blade soon enough to kill me too. And I felt like - there was something I could do.”
“Just like that?” Dean was quieter.
“It was like a string, within reachable distance, and I strained my grace to get to it. And I could pull it. So I did, and..and you picked it up then, by looking into my eyes.” It was as if Castiel was explaining it to himself too, not just to Dean.
“I don’t know how I ‘picked’ anything up.” Dean wondered aloud. Helpless. “I don’t it know how it worked, at all-”
“Dean” Castiel suddenly walked towards him. There was only a foot of distance between their chests, and Castiel blinked clearly at him. “Look at me.”
Dean hesitantly raised his eyes from the ground, and felt them flicker all over Cas’s features. He was embarrassed, because Cas may be dense in general, but anyone would understand if a dude’s eyes kept flitting back to your lips, right? Rigidly, Dean made himself focus on Cas’s eyes. They were ocean blue in the sun, but tinted with the grey of the late evening right now. It was certainly not the first time Dean noticed the angel’s eyes. “I am.”
“Would you… could you really look into my eyes?” Castiel asked, he sounded so sincere, that Dean didn’t have it in himself to make a lewd joke.
He simply obeyed, letting himself drown in the black pupils, not letting his sight wander past the beautiful hues of the iris, or-
Dean!
Dean blinked suddenly, and Castiel clasped his bicep with his right hand, to make him focus. His eyes sought all of Dean's attention.
Dean?
So now, this is apparently a thing. Dean thought, and somehow it was enough. We’re telepathy buddies, who think into each other’s heads.
For a long moment, Cas simply looked into his eyes. But Dean didn’t hear anything from him. There was a pleasant silence of all of Cas’s attention on him.
It was when Dean began to wonder if the connection had broke, or if Dean was suddenly incapable of hearing Cas’s thoughts anymore, that a small, mellow voice he hardly recognized as Cas came floating through the front of his brain.
It was unsure, and almost a little timid. Maybe even sad. It wasn't what Dean expected.
Is this so bad?
Of course it wasn’t, who was he kidding? But Cas’s face had crumbled into an apologetic look, though his eyes stayed focused on Dean’s- and Dean understood that not everything he thought was audible to Cas. It was - it was perfectly under his control too!
However, that meant that Cas believed that Dean hated this- except the truth was far from it. It was unbelievable, yes; but this was Cas. It wasn’t - it couldn’t be… bad. Dean suddenly wondered how much of his thoughts were audible to Cas, not quite having a good hold on it yet.
I never said that. Dean swallowed, as if testing waters. It’s weird, not gonna lie, but it isn't exhausting, and it could be helpful. And okay, maybe it could be fun-ishh too.
Castiel smiled a bit, and his eyes suddenly seemed to light up literally, and a wave floated through the ‘string’ apparently, uplifting Dean’s spirits too. He smiled too, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, up close.
And then he suddenly stopped smiling, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, this up close, and that had just made him smile.
Whoa, Winchester - bring it down a notch. He looked away, almost on instinct, a heat crawling up his neck.
“This is gonna need some getting used to,” Dean declared, putting his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder - because apparently two grown men staring deeply into each other’s eyes in the parking lot of a cheap motel, wasn’t inappropriate enough to be considered gay, with only one of them touching the other.
(If someone were doing a commentary on Dean’s life, they’d need to pepper in the fact of how the oldest Winchester was truly prone to being a helping hand to bring about situations which embarrassed him infinitely, in the confines of his own head, later.)
Dean pulled off his hand, almost that very next moment, and turned away from him, towards Baby. Thinking. There was so much to think about.
“Can I tell you something?” Castiel spoke up, his voice ever so thoughtful. “This is not… the first time I saw this. Angels can do it, angels who were raised together, who have fought together. Archangels find it simple. But seraphs like us?” He sighed. “Uriel had recently discovered we were able to do it, just a few decades back, but we tried it rarely, and now he..”
“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean meant it, and he bit his lip. “But, what about me? I wasn’t - I’m not him, and I wasn’t raised with you, angel.” It didn’t strike him that he’d just called Castiel angel until sufficiently later, half-asleep in bed and replaying the conversation, and it was a miracle that he didn’t panic out of sight when it happened.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Castiel spoke, after a pause. “But there were stories. Of humans being able to do this, rarely. Very rarely.”
“What did I do -?” Dean stopped, not saying ‘wrong’, because Cas would probably not understand he meant it as a joke. And not saying ‘right’ either, because that wasn’t something he’s say out loud.
“It wasn’t something you did. I do not know why it happened for you and me, Dean. But,” Castiel stared at him keenly. Dean looked back at his eyes, and once again, he could feel them relapsing into their own bubble, where words didn’t need to be uttered to be understood. It was kind of fascinating.
Castiel paused, as if testing the string again, or maybe just wondering how to say it. When he finally does, his voice trembles a bit. And he’s searching in Dean’s eyes, some sort of reassurance; involuntarily.
I have heard it happens for those who are bonded.
Dean was suddenly grateful that Cas didn’t say that out loud, because Dean would have been absolutely incapable of responding with anything at all. But since this was just between them, there were only traces of a boundary, yet no intrusion- Dean felt the courage to think distinctly.
Then maybe you do know why it happened for us.
*
That's why, when Cas throws the 'profound bond' line at Sam, Dean instantly panicked. Castiel met his eyes, sending a, What's the matter?
Dean could only scoff his denial out loud, and glare a Not in front of my brother, jackass, into Castiel's irritatingly blue eyes.
*
In his defense, Dean doesn’t know how long Sam has been noticing it. But it’s got to be in the middle of a fight that he calls them out on it. It’s the middle of the goddamn showdown of the hunt. It’s the Winchesters and Castiel against dozens of demons; the angel whirred around, killing plenty, with expertise and his bright blade; Sam was exorcising loudly, from memory, as he fought off more demons using Ruby’s knife, and Dean shot at all the monsters in between.
When Dean gets a spare second - the Winchesters look like they’ve almost already won, and most demons are fighting to lose now - he whips his head in Cas’s direction. The latter is always majestic when he’s in his element, a glorious warrior.
Dean watches Cas flung a demon over, and pin him to the ground with a flourish, extracting a dying gasp as Castiel lands next to him with a palm on his sternum, displaying strength that should’ve been impossible; and Dean gapes. As if on cue, Castiel turns to face him, and there’s a triumphant spark in his eyes, and a smirk dangling tangent from the corner of his lips. It’s an absolute scene to die for, and he doesn’t look past Dean.
Dean. Castiel suddenly speaks, directly into Dean’s nerves.
That was so cool! You flipped him midair, it was something else, dude! Whoa! Dean lets out, in a hurry.
Castiel’s eyes don’t leave Dean’s, but they crinkle into a smile. You have blood in your hair.
I could do with a compliment too, but sure, worry more about my hair, why don’t you? Dean runs a hand violently through his hair, to get it off.
You’re an excellent fighter, and you know it. The fact that there was dry blood in your hair was something that you didn’t know, so I mentioned it. Castiel almost teased, and it stunned Dean how natural it felt suddenly. To have the voice of an angel echoing through his head, delivering lines in a deadpan. All while he got to stare into those fantastic baby blues, which starred in more dreams than Dean appreciated.
Come to think of it, Dean had no idea what he looked like, right now. Frozen in the middle of a fight scene, with eyes locked with Castiel’s, and no will to look away. His jaw basically hung, rapt in attention.
Don’t be that way. Dean sent back. Listen. Will you stay after the hunt tonight, Cas?
Do you need me to? Instantly resonated.
Once again, Dean surprised himself. But he was also beginning to realize that he could be both spontaneous and brave, when it came to saying the stuff he wanted to, when they communicated this way. Dean proposed, swiftly.
Nah, I was just thinking. If you were living with us tonight, we could make plans, you know - maybe a movie, some classic, of course; or maybe burgers and -
DEAN! Turn around, and SHOOT! HE’S BEHIND YOU!
Dean spun around as fast as he could, following thoughtlessly and firing away. His thoughts returned to him slower, still stuck on the way Cas’s eyes widened with sheer worry, when they saw Dean was in danger. Before he could think ahead, the body of an armed demon dropped at his feet, with a bullet in his head.
Castiel had sounded terrified for his sake, eyes suddenly wide and his booming baritone piercing through Dean’s bodily systems to make his muscles move just right. Never had Castiel’s voice overpowered all of his senses again - not once, after that one time in the abandoned shack, after the former raised him from hell.
”…Dean!“ Came Sam’s voice, trailing closer, and it was as if he’d been yelling for long - though Dean could only hear it now. "Are you okay!?”
“Yeah,” Dean touched the corpse with his boot. “Just peachy.” Their surroundings were silent, and all the demons had been killed. Sam ran towards him, frantic, and stopped as he began to yell, harshly clutching his brother’s shoulder, to get himself back together.
“You - you idiot! Both of you! Well, if you hadn’t been staring at each other’s mugs,” He declared, turning his head to include Castiel in his reprimand. “You’d have seen the demon coming sooner!”
Dean swallowed, suddenly overcome with the realization of what it looked like, each time they did it. Fuck. He hadn’t been thinking.
Sam wasn’t done yet. He’d been keeping it in for too long. “What is up with you, Dean!? I would think you got enough of looking at each other from what you keep doing, all frigging day!” It was as if Sam had taken the panic he felt at seeing his brother almost killed, and combined it with the frustration piling since almost a fortnight now into a mound of anger, that he shoved in their faces. “I mean - it doesn’t matter to me, you do you and be happy being yourself - but at least put the pining away when you’re in the middle of a fight!”
“It’s not pining, what the fuck do you mean?” Dean objected indignantly. “It is -” And he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Castiel, but the angel was looking at the ground, almost as if he believed he was responsible for Dean’s almost-murder - while clearly he was the reason Dean was still alive!
Dean commenced on a trail of thoughts himself.
Didn’t Sam know at all? Well, should he? Did he really need to?
Okay, if he thought about it, probably not.
It wasn’t about this being a Dean-and-Cas thing. No. It wasn’t about that at all, that’d be ridiculous. It was plain and simple about keeping Sam from being a smartass about it, for forever later.
So that settled it.
Sam didn't need to know.
Were you telling me something? Castiel suddenly popped up in his head, sounding grave.
I was trying to think something at you, but never mind, Dean got swept up in the feeling of replying to the angel through his thoughts, feeling himself put every emotion through a channel to get to him, to remember that Sam was still right there -
“Oh, there you go again!” Sam whined, before beginning to storm away. “Don’t try to stop me from driving away in your car, Dean! You can just keep staring,” He snarked. “And try to get it out of your system before you return to the motel!”
Castiel walked to Dean, slowly, once Sam had left, leaving his rant in the middle. “Your brother -” He began.
“Obviously you don’t do this with him, because he has no idea,” Dean remarked, if he didn’t already know.
“It isn’t intentional.” Castiel defended.
Dean nodded. He walked a few steps on the path where his brother had marched off, seconds before. He knew Sammy - and knew that that was just an outburst for no reason but venting the sudden adrenaline, and he was just being the regular prissy cares-for-Dean’s-life bitch, he’s always been trying to be. It didn’t bother him as much as it would’ve, if Sam knew about the ‘bond’; especially what Dean thought of it as, inwardly.
Castiel blinked, bringing him back to the present. “But, Dean? What does Sam think, then? What do we do, when we look at each other’s eyes?”
“…uh, just look, I- I guess.” Dean stammered, fidgety. “It’s not a big deal, c'mon, let’s get back to Baby before the kid actually leaves. And hey, uh, about the heads-up about the demon, back then? I didn’t get ganked totally because of you, so - thanks.” Castiel looked at him like he didn’t make sense, which was pretty unfair, because he totally did, right? He was being extremely clear about all of this. Was dealing with all his new feelings like a pro.
He’d obviously been giving off the vibe, that meant that Dean was completely over the freak out phase associated with the fact that what their telepathic crap meant was that they were ‘bonded’ - or whatever, who cares - and was only attached to what that meant for him ~ that Cas could hear Dean’s thoughts and he had a choice to not let him, but he did let him, so that was supposed to mean something - and he saved Dean’s life almost periodically at this point, so that was another perk of having him around, except for the fact that he got to look into his eyes - and Dean was going to keep this entire complicated thing from his brother, as if it were his overdue gay panic, to be later referred to as a mid-life (sexuality) crisis.
Okay. Maybe it was the opposite of out in the open.
But perhaps Dean could ask Cas to look into his eyes, and go over these (that were so hard to actually say out loud) again, because yeah, that was a thing that they did now.
Dean Winchester had a weird life, and he was extremely happy to be living it right now, as Cas blinked at him and said, “Of course, Dean, always,” in response to the thanking, and followed him out of the room where they’d just killed an entire troop of demons and saved the state of Kansas, and as Dean plotted to push Sam right of the driver’s seat, and mentally made a note to start paying more attention to the setting before he starts staring at Cas. Apparently.
~~~
And that’s it! I know it’s an abrupt-ish end. but will you be fine if I post editions of this, separately? There’s an angsty one, with mentions of Purgatory, Naomi and Steve - and there’s probably also a crack one, with shipper!Sam, shipper!Charlie and shipper!Kevin, and some breakfast Destiel. Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this fic, and am so glad you sent me that headcannon, Caitlin!
Here’s my taglist for Destiel, and though this is pretty general, I guess it counts: @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @adventurous-blob @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @legendary-destiel @ladywaywarddsc @styggtroll @moderatelypanickedbisexual @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ctrl-alt-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms and @3dg310rdsupreme, uwu, Special Mention: @zoerayne2426
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Following that day in school, it had almost become like a routine.
If you call, doing something in a more or less similar manner, for about ten days, that.
Castiel would wake up to Asia like every morning, but it was followed, only minutes later, by Dean’s phone call. He’d talk about weird unnecessary stuff for a while - like how he dreamed of Castiel, while Castiel pursed his lips and refused to answer with the truthful ‘Me Too’ which he should have - and then tell Castiel that he was going to pick him up for school. Castiel would give him an affirmation and then proceed to get ready.
Some days, when Castiel had woke up feeling particularly fond - fond doesn’t express anything more than friendly liking, he kept repeating to himself, now and then - of Dean Winchester, he’d put in an extra effort in getting ready, and properly comb his hair or put on one of Gabriel’s t-shirts. But then, once Dean had seen him in a band shirt, with his hair parted at the side and gelled, he’d remarked how he liked Castiel whatever he might wear and that he thus needn’t wear stuff which wasn’t 'him’ only for Dean, and Castiel had resorted to blushing to avoid any further comments on the object, and proceeded to dress like the weirdo he was; plain t-shirts with the rare brand logo which Castiel detested, because it was in a way showing-off his money to come to school wearing an Armani or a Dior tee - and yes, they did made roundnecks as Castiel wore, perhaps Gabriel had forced them to as of when he didn’t wear leather jackets and stuff to school and was just a normal Freshman who wanted everything he owned to be classy - sweaters of weird shades of blue, red, and green, and his trenchcoat.
Then, after getting ready, Castiel would proceed downstairs, and spend a few minutes with his Dad and Gabriel - when he was there in the morning - and soon enough - sometimes even half an hour before required - the Impala would be outside his door.
Dean had religiously made it a point to blare his music at the most volume which humans can hear without their eardrums bursting or their brains getting screwed. But Castiel usually didn’t mind; their tastes were, they came to discover, more similar than just being fans of the same famous singers. 'You know, a guy has tastes like you when you have the same songs on your deserves-to-be-famouser or guilty-pleasure playlists,’ Dean had informed Castiel preachily, one day, and been rewarded by a bright blue-eyed grin.
Some days, Sam would be with Dean in the car. In those cases, Castiel had to sit in the back, because Sam always sat shotgun, but Castiel enjoyed being a silent spectator of the brotherly moments that took place - albeit, rarely - in the front seat. He’d also come to enjoy Sam’s company, and realise he and Dean were vastly different yet similar. Sam was lesser of an extrovert, but he could be just as talkative as Dean at times; Sam was passionate about the things he cared, while Dean mostly had a fuck-me-if-I-care attitude, but both of them were very good at the things they liked. And, also, Dean was the more 'obvious kind of beautiful’ - Hannah’s words, not his - while you had to be with Sam for a while before you properly begun to gauge the beauty in his soft brown 'puppy dog’ eyes, and ready smile with dimples all over the place. Although, Castiel had replied to her, if you were to ask Becky or Amanda or Jess, the answer would be quite different.
To Castiel, though, to be truthful, Sam was handsome in a boyish kind of way, with his shy smile, and overgrown hair. Dean, well, Dean was handsome in every way known to man - liking one’s physical features is not the same as liking one in itself - and it was proving difficult to stop himself from spewing it out in front of Dean.
Once, in school, Dean and Castiel would meet, only some of the time. Dean, who was hoping to get a sports scholarship the next year was already training hard and could be found on the field a lot of the time of the day, and with Castiel, the rest. Following the day when he’d written notes in Castiel’s Lab journal, he’d always show up in the Chemistry Practicals - Garth had been told, not too unkindly, to find another partner - and he later made it a point to show up in History too, judging how Castiel was always excited about it, and Dean claimed he liked seeing Castiel with that 'kinda-rare’ excited look on his face.
They’d also meet occasionally in Lunch. More like, their eyes would. They’d never sat together in Lunch yet. A lot of the Lunch periods, Dean wouldn’t even show up. A couple of times, Castiel was prompted to ask him about it, but he never really did. Other times, he would show up and propose that they sit on Dean’s table - also known as, the Popular-People table - and Castiel would politely refuse, since he 'must also spend time with his friends, Charlie, Kevin and Garth’ and Dean would give in like a gentleman. Castiel suspected that was only because Dean didn’t really wanna be seen with him and was only offering to be polite, but then his own brain would reason, that if he didn’t wanna be seen with him, why would he give him a lift to-and-from school and always wave at him in the stands during a game - there had been two as of yet, and Lawrence High had won each one.
After school, Dean would again drop Castiel home in his car; which included more music, innuendos, and unexplained moments of staring into each other’s eyes.
And then the rest of the day would pass by in a blurring speed - Homework, and Charles’ publishing date was coming closer, and Charlie dropped in on alternate days for her supposed 'History tuitions’ with Castiel, which turned out to be get-togethers where Charlie would tease Castiel about Dean, after Castiel told her of all which happened that particular couple of days. Occasionally, Kevin would crash these. Anyhow, it’d soon be time to go to bed, and fall asleep while thinking of some weirdly amazing thing Dean Winchester did-slash-said.
And then Castiel would wake up to Asia again, and the whole cycle would begin again.
Castiel was pretty happy with things the way they were, and somehow he only rarely thought of the 'Dare’ thing - surprisingly, these rare moments were never when he was with Dean, but when he was in solitude - but it occasionally disturbed him that his friendship with Dean might just go away any moment. Any moment, when Castiel fell in love with him. Dean would be on his way. Probably forget that Castiel ever existed. The feeling filled him with dread, and each time he thought of this, he came out of his reverie with a stronger resolution of not falling in love with Dean, come what may.
And, perhaps he felt, these resolutions were the only reason, that that didn’t happen.
And the thought was terrifying. Beyond his imagination.
***
It was one of these days - another cold day of November; nearing the end of the month - that something happened which changed Castiel’s perception of Dean forever.
Actually, three such things happened. You know how they say? Strike three; you’re out.
Sure enough, at 8:35 am, the Impala’s familiar honk informed him that Dean had reached. Castiel hastily called out a goodbye to his dad - who was neck-deep in manuscript-final-edit-mode, and didn’t even reply - and slinging his bag on one shoulder, rushed out to meet Dean.
He noticed, with a mixture of emotions, that Sam was in the front seat.
Dean was standing outside the passenger’s door, with a bouquet of blue lilies in his hand. Castiel walked, in a trance-like state, to the Impala.
“Heya!” Dean grinned broadly, thrusting out the flowers to Castiel as Castiel approached him. “Flowers for you!”
“Hello, Dean.” Castiel, almost uncertainly, took them in his hand, instinctively holding them to his chest, as he held his books in school. “What are these for?”
“Why, it’s our two-week anniversary!” Dean announced, grinning like an idiot still. “Don’t tell me you forgot, cherry-pie!”
“Well, alright.” Castiel swallowed, his eyebrows rising. “I guess I did.” He muttered, putting out his hand to Dean. “Happy two-week anniversary, Dean.”
“Thank you.” Dean did a dramatic little courtesy; Castiel stared, unsurprisingly. “I’m glad you finally, finally agreed that this is a relationship.”
Castiel pursed his lips in a slight frown. “I’m just sick of arguing,” he shrugged his shoulders, his eyes not leaving Dean’s face still. “This is still you trying to make me fall in love with you, and failing.” He teased.
“Whoa, the sarcasm in this guy,” Dean ignored Castiel’s smirking face, to gesture to Castiel with a finger, while talking to Sam and referring to Castiel. “Totally turning me on right now, by the way.”
“Please keep that sorta information completely to yourself.” Sam chuckled out, to which Castiel joined in.
“Just drive,” Castiel nudged Dean with his hand.
“I get it, sweetheart,” Dean blew him a kiss, and Castiel tried hard to roll his eyes, only managing to gape. “You don’t want us to, you know,” he whispered like a middle-school-girl. “In front of Sammy. I’m so sorry, I should’ve ditched him today. With it being our two-weeks-anniversary and all.” He shrugged, feigning sadness.
“Me being here, has never really stopped you two from doing anything.” Sam commented, from inside the car. Castiel tried hard to not blush; he had no idea if he succeeded. “So, go right ahead, guys; don’t let me bother you.”
“Your brother is an idiot.” Castiel told Sam, and opened the door and sat down in the backseat, placing his bag beside him.
“Hey!” Dean yelled out. “I was gonna open the door for you!” He stuck out his lip mutinously. “That’s why I was standing outside!”
“I thought it was to give me these flowers.” Castiel blinked.
“Yeah, that, but that too!” Dean scowled.
“Well, you can close the door for me..?” Castiel offered, after giving it a genuine moment of thought.
Dean fought to keep a smile off his face. “That’s not nearly as romantic.” He shrugged, a sarcastic smirk sneaking onto his face. “That’s just chauffeur-like.”
“Well, you know what, Dean,” Castiel grinned. “You’ll have to live with it, now that I’ve already opened the door for myself and got in. There’s nothing left for me to do.” Castiel cut Dean off right when he was about to speak. “And no, I won’t get out again, only so that you can open the door for me.”
“Alright!” Dean scowled, and marched over to the driver’s seat on the other side of the vehicle. “Well, then, you know what? I’m gonna play 'Tears in Heaven’ all the way, on repeat.” Dean reciprocated, very maturely.
Castiel almost shuddered at the song. It was one of the songs which had him in tears before it even ended. There were several such songs, and 'Tears in Heaven’ was one of them. Dean himself got pretty emotional, but not as much close to tears as he got by 'Cats in the Cradle’ by Harry Chapin. However, Castiel knew Dean would not act on his threat. He didn’t.
He instead blasted ’Because the Night’ by Patti Smith. Dean sang along, and Sam and Castiel merely bobbed his head to it. The song was not exactly made for Dean’s deep masculine voice, but to Castiel, it sounded amazing.
They reached school soon. Sam got out of the car, his bag on his shoulders, and turned to Castiel; he was about five inches taller, and quite nearly towered over him. “Happy two-weeks, man.” Sam grinned cheekily.
Castiel rolled his eyes at this. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Look, I gotta tell you this,” Sam continued, in a more serious tone. “Dean talked about nothing and no one else in the entire car ride to 'Paradise’.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.
“That’s no r-” Castiel was about to say 'reason’ when Dean cut him off, with a laugh in a falsetto.
“Oh, Sam!” He reached their side of the car, and landed a hand on Sam’s back. Sam stared at Dean with a smile, knowing what would follow. Castiel didn’t, and waited. “Look at you being the li'l brother who shows the boyfriend the embarrassing and naked childhood pictures of me!” He smiled pretentiously at Castiel, who raised an eyebrow at this act. “Now, go away, and let the elders be, you little-” He proceeded to literally shoo Sam away.
Castiel chuckled, seeing Dean drive Sam away. “You’ll hurt him.” He remarked, as Dean gave Sam one last push towards the school building. Sam almost jogged away, chuckling too.
“He’s the size of a car,” Dean shrugged. “Human beings like me and you can’t hurt him.”
Castiel smiled, his eyes flickering down to the flowers in his hands. “Well, I’ll be going to class now. T-thank you for the flowers, Dean.”
“Wait!” Dean called. “I haven’t yet given you my I-got-you-flowers speech, which I stayed up, all last night preparing!” He ducked his head, feigning shyness. “It’s kinda, too romantic, to be conducted in front of Sam.”
Castiel felt his heart leap. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Speak up, I mean.” Castiel cleared his throat.
“Okay,” Dean smiled, happily. “Gimme a moment to collect my thoughts.”
“You’re not about to give a lecture in class.” Castiel pointed out.
“Yeah, this is far more important than that. What use is something that existed in the Tigris-Euphrates region, that was off the map in 332 BC?” Dean winked, and Castiel didn’t even have to think twice before he knew Dean’s sarcastic facts about the Mesopotamian civilisation - which they were currently studying - were correct. He almost beamed, happily. “Alright, I’m ready.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t interrupt me, okay?”
This childishness was somehow appealing to Castiel. He nodded his promise.
“Okay. So, Castiel Novak, I, Dean Winchester, am, on the finishing of two of the best weeks of my life with you, giving you these flowers as a show of my feelings towards you. And trust me, you have no idea how these- what these feelings are. I wanted to get you flowers, I always thought giving flowers was romantic, what about you?” He paused, and Castiel nodded an answer, looking dazed. “Cool, you like flowers too! Awesome. So, yeah, I wanted to get you flowers, and I wondered which flowers would be good. And I’m not gonna lie, Castiel, all I had to do was think of you in my head, and I knew blue lilies were the answer. I hoped that the lilies are as beautiful as your eyes, as blue as them, as perfect as them, but turns out that’s not the case, because now, as you’re holding the flowers,” he gestured weakly to the flowers, which Castiel still held against his chest, “I can clearly see which is more beautiful. Because, you, uh,” he cleared his throat. “You’re so gorgeous, Castiel, that when I’m with you, I can’t even see myself. I can only see you. And, sometimes,” Dean was looking at his feet, and he stopped mid-sentence.
It was only then, that Castiel realised, that his voice was stuck in his throat, and he was looking at the ground too. How beautiful was that? And how much of it was true?
“You with me?” Dean looked up suddenly, his hand on Castiel’s forearm, his expression completely changed from ten minutes ago.
Castiel nodded, and looked at Dean through his eyelashes. “Yes, Dean.” He muttered, almost obediently, completely absorbed in Dean’s monologue. He observed each of Dean’s movements, his eyes keenly following every twitch and look.
“You know what,” Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t remember it properly,” he spoke in an uncomfortable voice, as if he was lying. “I mean, it was kinda other stuff, you know. No chick-flick moments though,” he almost looked alarmed by now. “So, yeah, I clearly overestimated my memory, stupid me.” His eyes flickered all around the place. “I’ll skip to the last line…?”
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel repeated.
“Yeah, so, Castiel, y-you’ve become an integral part of my life. And, I’m gonna quote John Denver here,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not gonna sing it, though, just that one line, and I’ll just say it, because it suits you perfectly,” his voice almost trailed away.
Castiel cut in, before Dean did something like throw up his hands in exasperation and walk off, never to be seen again, because it seemed like a possibility at the moment. “Which one?”
“I know, you’ll know.” Dean almost breathed out.
Castiel’s mind worked up, as he thought of all of John Denver’s songs. Then, sometime, in the middle of being ear-deep in music and lyrics, his eyes met Dean’s, which were earnest, and vague at the same time. And, somewhere, between staring into each other’s eyes, Dean stepped closer to him, and they were inches away.
Castiel and Dean stared at each other awkwardly, for a full moment. Neither of them knew what they had to say.
“Yeah, I forgot.” Dean spoke up, suddenly, and Castiel was brought back into reality - from the abyss which was Dean’s eyes - with a jolt. “So, I wanted to say this. You, you’re amazing. And, I love being with you.”
“What song is that?”
“It’s called the introduction, jackass,” Dean grinned, easily, all of the sudden, the tension dropping away. Castiel smiled slightly; Dean didn’t curse at him usually, never really, it was always compliments and petnames and flirtations. But Castiel liked being endearingly treated in the same way as Dean treated his friends, Benny, Sam, and the gang. He merely urged Dean to continue. “So,” he cleared his throat once more, and Castiel had noticed he did constantly when he was nervous. “You fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like a mountain in springtime, like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert.” He gulped, and blinked a couple of times.
“Like a sleepy blue ocean,” Castiel completed, blinking himself, at recognising the song immediately. One of his personal favorites, of the artist.
Dean smiled; a genuine smile which didn’t cover his entire face like his usual shiteating-grin did, but merely curled the corners of his lips; not straining his cheeks, and not disturbing the plane of his cheekbones, something Castiel enjoyed observing - he’d decided to call it that - and observed then too.
The smile made his eyes light up, and almost gleam a brighter green than they were, and with every time Castiel blinked; it seemed as though his eyes, his face, was coming closer to Castiel.
He was leaning in. They both were.
And it was almost a kiss. Almost.
“Hey, brother!” Came a gruff voice from the side, and Dean pulled away like someone like screamed 'Fire!’. Castiel knew he’d spend several minutes thinking about this action later, as he himself withdrew, shifting out of Dean’s grip on his forearm and focussing on breathing, as his eyes fell on the voice. Benny Lafitte. Who seemed to be made aware of the situation at that very moment. “Oh Lor- Holy shit, man, I had no idea. I-I’ll go away.” He turned away immediately, still blabbering as he began to walk away. “Dammit, I had no idea…”
“Hey, it’s okay, man!” Dean hurried, and Benny turned uncertainly. “It’s not a big deal, what did you want? It’s cool.” He assured, his eyes not meeting Castiel. Castiel was grateful for that. Because he had no idea what his eyes would convey.
Castiel’s brain was in turmoil. In war with itself. A part of it was surprised; just taken aback at the turn of events. Another was confused. What had happened? Had they been leaning in? Would they have kissed had Benny not interrupted? What would that have been like? And how had Castiel reached so close to kissing Dean Winchester? Another part of his brain was elated. He’d deal with that part later. Because, the largest part of his brain thoughtlessly baffled. Was Dean Winchester about to kiss Castiel? How had he let it happen? What even had happened? Had it been Dean’s words? Dean’s smile? Something Castiel did? What even had happened!?
“Oh, okay.” Dean’s voice - as he spoke to Benny, his best friend - interrupted Castiel’s brain-train. “I’ll be there, Benny, just gimme a second, t-to-”
“Wrap things up.” Benny completed, with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows. Castiel, feeling almost lost, looked at Benny, who was staring directly at him. “Alright, man. Finish what you were doing.” He winked pointedly at Dean.
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Dean gave him a rough push with one hand, with a laugh, before walking back to Castiel, not quite so close as before - Castiel noted - but close enough to whisper a, “Can I see you later, Castiel, I need to go.”
Castiel nodded. He knew Benny was on the school team too. “Yes, Dean.” He replied quietly.
“That was awesome,” Dean spoke, in a louder voice, now that Benny was far enough away. “I really meant it all. Happy two-weeks, right?” He grinned, but it was not the smile which had fascinated Castiel to the point of wanting to kiss him - wasn’t that what had happened? - but his usual slightly-vague but wide grin.
He didn’t even mention the almost kiss. “Thank you, Dean.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Dean patted his arm twice, with a weird look in his eyes. He leaned in closer - why would he do that, if not to give Castiel a heart attack? - and muttered, “Can’t very well spend my anniversary without you, can I?”
Castiel ran a tongue over his chapped lip. “You have to go, Dean.” Dean had not even mentioned the 'almost’ kiss. Why not?
“Yeah, I do.” Dean began walking in the direction of the field, his front towards Castiel, still. “I’ll see you as soon as possible, Castiel! Don’t miss me too much!”
“Turn around, Dean.” Castiel resisted a smile. “You’ll fall.”
“I won’t.” Dean laughed, and although he was a good five metres away, Castiel could hear it clearly. “I’m batman. I don’t fall.”
“Yeah, you fly.” Castiel raised his eyebrows.
“Glide, baby!” Dean yelled, turning around, and proceeding to do a childish mimicry of what he meant. Castiel thought of keeping to himself that even if Batman could fly, that is glide through the air, the impact from his landing, would likely wreck his body unless he fought crime with a better cape; not only because Dean was now out of reach - at the speed he glided, well - but also because he was Dean’s favourite superhero. He’d come to know of that fact when coming upon Sam and Dean arguing about superheroes one day, in the Impala. And remembered it, finding it adorable. In a perfectly platonic way, of course.
Anyways, Castiel walked off to his locker - he couldn’t even remember his first period anymore and would have to check his timetable, though he was sure he did remember in the car - and spent the whole of first period - Mathematics - thinking about Dean, again. About his smile, about his speech, about his eyes. And about the kiss which never happened, but could’ve.
Perhaps. Maybe. Almost. And just like that, it was STRIKE ONE.
Yep. I wrote it. I broke my heart, all my myself. I consider it a talent.
***1983***
Four-year old Dean rested his head sideways on his dad's chest, his little arms wrapped around his dad's neck tightly, as John held him up with one hand, and wrapped his other hand around his son. Mary Winchester stood next to John, and had both of her hands on the pram where the youngest Winchester lay, eyes closed, and mouth open in a gurgling and toothy smile, as always.
"Dean!" Mary called, and Dean looked at his mother immediately, his green eyes twinkling with excitement, as every kid's does. "Look at that!"
Dean looked where his mother was pointing. It was an icecream vendor. "Ice-cream!" He answered, grinning. John smiled. It was hardly a year since Dean learned to say ice-cream. It was ice-cweam before that. John loved that.
"Do you want some ice cream, Dean?" John asked, talking as if he were talking not to a four-year-old but a two-year-old.
Dean grinned even broader, if that were possible. "Yes, dad!"
Mary smiled at John. "You're already 'dad' to him, John. I wonder how much longer I stay 'Mommy'." She whispered, as the entire family moved towards the icecream vendor.
John shrugged, the smile remaining fixed.
Dean turned to his dad again. "Will you have icecream too, dad?" His voice was high-pitched and excited.
"Sure, Dean." John said, absentmindedly, as he pulled out his wallet with one hand, keeping his son up with the other.
"And you, Mommy?" Dean turned to his mother.
"Of course. I love it as much as you do, honey." Mary pinched his cheek.
"And will Sammy?" Dean asked, still looking at his mother with large green eyes.
Mary chuckled, and even the ice cream vendor grinned, from behind the cart. "No, honey, I don't think he wants ice cream."
Dean thought for a while. "Then can I have his?"
Both his parents laughed. "Yes you can, Dean." John answered his kid, putting his down. "Which flavour do you want?" John bent down to face his son.
Dean thought about it for a difficult moment. "What flavour will you two have?" He asked, turning to face both his parents.
"I'll have strawberry." John said, grinning. "And mommy will have vanilla."
"Okay!" Dean grinned broadly. "Then, I want one strawberry and one vanilla!"
The vendor grinned, and pinched Dean's cheek too before getting to scoop up icecream into a cone. "Coming right up."
"Can I have a bit more?" Dean whispered loudly, going on his toes so as to only let the vendor hear him. Of course, everyone heard. "I want my brother to have some too! I know Mommy says he does not, but I'm sure he wants some!"
And once again, everyone laughed.
Except Dean, who looked dead serious, and confused.
And of course, except Sam, who was sleeping in his pram, cuddled up in blankets, oblivious to how much his brother cared for him, already.
***1987***
Four-year-old Sam had his chin propped up against his hand, as he stared boredly at the views in front of him. He sat leaning against the back of the park bench, crouching, and occasionally looking sideways at his father who was absorbed completely in the fat book on his lap. Dean had gone to the bathroom, and Sam was completely bored. Suddenly, an ice cream cart passed from in front of them, and little Sam's eyes widened like saucepans.
"Dad!" Sam almost yelled, in excitement. "Dad, icecream!"
"Sam, don't disturb me." John said, distractedly, not even looking up from the book, and merely turning the page. "I'm working."
"But, dad!" Sam tugged at his dad's sleeve. "Icecream! I love icecream! Can I please have icecream?" Sam pleaded, turning to his dad with puppy-dog eyes.
Once again, John merely moved his hand so that Sam stopped tugging his sleeve, and grunted. "Let me work, Sam."
Sam pouted, disgruntled, before tugging at John's sleeve again, harder this time. "Dad, could I just please have ice crea-"
John turned to his son, sudden irritation in his eyes. "Can't you see that I'm working, Sam!?" His eyes were filled with momentary anger, and his voice raised. "Just, shut up! You can have your stupid ice cream later!" He completed, his voice calming a bit, and turning back to his book.
If John had looked up then, even he would've melted. Sam's bottom lip quivered, his hazel eyes filled with tears, and face turning reddish. He resisted the urge to cry or ask again, knowing it would infuriate his dad even more. He simply shut up, and buried his face in his hands.
Dean returned in a few moments. He found his brother in that state, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "Hey! What's up!?"
Sam merely looked up, his eyes red. "N-nothing, Dean."
"Dad say something?" Dean said, softly. Sam didn't even have to nod. "What happened?"
"J-just," Sam's voice trembled. The only word Dean could comprehend was, "Ice cream!"
"Quiet down, Sammy." Dean said, coaxingly. "Wait a second." Dean turned to his dad. "Dad?"
Again, not looking up, John muttered a, "Yeah?"
"Can we go for a walk?"
John looked up for a second, not even noticing how red Sam looked. "Yeah, okay, sure. Just be back here."
"Yes, sir." Dean said quietly, and pulled Sam by his hand. Sam promptly stood up, and the two walked towards the cart, Sam's hand tightly in Dean's.
Dean had money. Some of it, Bobby, or Pastor Jim slipped him by on visits. Some of it, John gave him as emergency funds. The rest, John gave him for grocery runs and Dean saved by cutting back. It amounted up to barely 20 dollars.
Dean pushed out thoughts of how much luckier he was than Sam. Or of how he would be left with even lesser money after this. He turned to his little brother, who was smiling again. "You happy now, Sammy?"
"You're the best, Dean!" Sam replied, indirectly, grinning broadly, and looking excitedly at the ice cream cart.
"Which flavour do you want, Sammy?" Dean grinned at his brother back. "Strawberry? Vanilla?"
"That's not a very decent thing to think, Dean." Castiel gave Dean a disapproving look before walking out of the room. He had just been hugging Dean, and had abruptly pulled off.
Dean rolled his eyes, muttered curses about angelic abilities under his breath and sat on the chair, his head on the table.
"Having a boyfriend who can read your thoughts when he touches you doesn't seem fun." Sam sighed, turning sideways to glance at Gabriel, who leaned against the wall, and grinned.
"You're right, every man has some secrets." Gabriel winked back.
Sam looked at his brother, and then back again at the archangel. "What could Dean have been thinking that pissed Cas off?"
"A bunch of things regarding the both of them, a pair of handcuffs, some roses on the bed, and pie-flavored syrup." Gabriel answered his favorite human, with a shrug.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Well, why would that make Cas angry?"
"It had to do mostly with the fact that Cas doesn't yet understand handcuffs, and considers licking syrup off each other's naked bodies extremely unflattering and lewd." Gabriel shrugged once again, and Sam blinked disbelievingly at him.
"Those are some pretty accurate guesses." Sam countered, a thought forming in his mind.
"Who said I was guessing, Samsquatch?" Gabriel chuckled, and Sam gasped.
"So you're saying that archangels can read minds without touching the person!?" Sam exclaimed, turning slightly red. Gabriel, knew exactly why.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying." Gabriel took pleasure at how the giant of a man in front of him was now blushing as red as ripe apples.
"Like, all t-the time..." Sam stuttered, his voice dying away, as followed a fit of coughs.
"If you're talking about the time when you guys summoned me and I showed up in a bath towel, then..." Gabriel's voice trailed off too, making Sam rub the back of his neck, embarrassed to the state of wanting to die now.
"I-I-uh," Sam began, but Gabriel cut him off yet again.
"Hey, don't even think of that." Gabriel suddenly turned serious. "I hate how much you harbour thoughts of wanting to drop dead."
"I was only kidding," Sam muttered back, his mind working up even more now.
"Well, don't kid like that, at least when you're around me." Gabriel said, a little less seriously, before breaking into another toothy childish grin. "Ah, that's better, think of that."
Sam's eyes widened. "No, I won't think of that!" He screwed his eyes shut, trying to think about something else.
"You know, when you try very hard not to think of something, that's exactly what goes around in the back of your mind." Gabriel was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Sam channelled his thoughts more vigorously.
"Your computer!? That's what you think of to divert yourself! No, wait, there's my bro, Lucifer! There, you're thinking about Dean and Cas again! Yeah, that's right, think about your fourteenth birthday cake! Chocolate with rainbows sprinkles, right?" Gabriel laughed, keeping the running commentary going, making Sam frown deeply, before finally giving up.
"Wow, you feel so violated, don't you, Sammy?" Gabriel walked forward, and put a hand on Sam's arm.
"It is, kinda, you know, injustice..." Sam sighed, looking away from the archangel.
"Oh, my, that's some wishful thinking! You wanna be able to read minds too!" Gabriel laughed.
"Stop reading my mind, Gabe." Sam glared at Gabriel. Gabriel stared into the eyes of a man whom he respected, admired, loved, cared for, even swore to protect from harm. His eyes constantly changed color, green at a moment's glance, and blue, the next, and then Gabriel's favorite shade of hazel brown.
"There's no need to think about hurting me, either." Gabriel smiled just a bit. "And you know what? That can be arranged."
"You mean, me being able to read minds?" Sam blinked disbelievingly.
"Yeah. You know, your thoughts suddenly were bright and happy." Gabriel wanted to ruffle Sam's hair like the puppy he was, but he would've had to stand on his tippy toes to do that, so he thought the better of it. "And anyways, yeah, I can let you borrow that ability, I guess!"
"You can do that!?"
"I'm an archangel, kiddo. We guys have some serious high-level mojo, as your brother crudely puts it." Gabriel winked.
Sam thought about it for a brief minute. Gabriel listened in to each of his thoughts and smiled sympathetically.
"Well, aren't you just the best man alive." Gabriel sighed, smiling even broader, and Sam reached to the end of his trail of thoughts. "You don't wanna butt into anyone's privacy. Everyone's thoughts are their own business, right? So you're gonna say no to me letting you read people's minds."
Sam nodded.
"Frankly, I agree to what you say. But its difficult to resist, when you can do it. You stand in front of someone, and you have the ability to tell what the person is thinking, and you can't resist but use the ability to know what he thinks of you, and how its so different from what comes out as words." Gabriel gulped.
Sam's mind began to race again.
"Whoa, whoa there, Sam!" Gabriel straightened. "What are you thinking about?"
"You ought to know." Sam laughed back, his eyes twinkling.
"You actually think I should give my mind-reading abilities to your human brother, Dean?" Gabriel stared at Sam in disbelief.
"He can already read a lot from people's expressions, and I know for sure that he'd never use it wrongly." Sam justified, thinking aloud. "Plus, it'd do good for him to be able to read Cas' mind. They'd be equals in their relationship then."
"But then, I'd never be able to read anyone's minds again..."
"Is that really a bad thing?" Sam squeezed Gabriel's arm, giving him the puppy dog eyes. "It'd sure be better for our relationship too." Sam grinned. "I'd feel a lot better, because otherwise, after today, I'd not like to be in your visual range ever again. And I have a feeling neither of us will like that. Especially one of us."
Gabriel frowned, considering it seriously, only and only because it was his Sam who was suggesting it. After a while, he had decided what he was gonna say. But he still looked up at Sam questioningly. "What's in it for me, Samsquatch?"
"You're the one who reads minds, archangel." Sam half-smiled, cocking his head a bit, letting himself dream freely.
Dean sat down next to his brother on the park bench which was supposed to be white and propped up his elbows on the table which lay in front of them. He put the ice cream cup on the table, and stuck the little spoon in it. "You sure you don't want any, Sammy?"
"Yeah." Sam replied, not really paying attention to his brother. His eyes were flickering in a particular direction constantly, and his lips twitched, like they did when he was nervous.
"Sammy?" Dean repeated, only louder.
Sam turned to his brother, fully facing him, and running a hand through his chocolate brown hair which was on the verge of covering his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Well?" Dean asked, with a small smile. He noticed Sam's eyes flicker in that direction again. "What is it?"
"Dean, I," Sam swallowed, his eyebrows netting into a frown, and a scowl on his lips, which produced craters in his cheeks. "I think someone is watching us."
Dean's hand instinctively went for his jeans pocket, where there was a gun. The soft smile left his features, and with a drawn look on his face, his eyes darted in all direction. "Where?"
"There." Sam stared pointedly in the direction where he'd constantly been looking. "I think she's staring at us."
Dean leaned a bit, and caught a good look of the person. It turned out to be a girl, wearing a peach T-shirt and a denim jumpsuit. She had hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, which was cut in a feathered look, with uneven fringes at the front. She was good-looking, and her lips were in a unknowingly-formed pout. But her eyes, hazel brown, stared intently at Dean's brother, in spite of it being Dean who was wiggling eyebrows at her and willing her with his eyes to look at him, which made Dean frown a bit.
Then he smiled, seeing a smile form on her lips as Sam turned to face her too. And he turned back to his brother. "No, kiddo. She's staring at you."
Sam looked at his 16 year old brother with a confused expression. "Why would she stare at me?"
"Because she finds you pretty to stare at?" Dean offered, a mischievous smile coming on his lips too, at his brother's visible discomfort.
Sam gave another glance back. "Do you mean it?"
"Yeah, trust me, I know all about this sorta stuff." Dean said, with what he called his 'cool' smile.
"Well, I find her pretty too." Sam looked back once more. This time, she smiled widely at him, dimpling.
Dean grinned, completely enjoying himself. His brother still looked backwards, but Dean spoke nonetheless. "Wow, you're already so alike! Good for you!" He added, sarcastically, chuckling to himself.
Sam suddenly turned forward, his jaw clenched, eyes wide, and face taut. He'd moved his head so fast that his hair almost flew, and his face was a mask of pure terror. "Dean?" He said, gulping, and blinking awkwardly.
"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean smiled at his brother.
"She just waved at me." He gulped again.
Dean could've burst out laughing at that moment. "So?"
Sam looked at his older brother, who knew everything according to him. "So, what do I do!?"
"You do find her pretty," Dean paused, where Sam nodded. "So, I guess, you wave back."
And before Dean could continue, Sam turned, with almost the same speed as before, and waved, mustering a small smile in return. At this, she grinned broader.
"I waved back at her." Sam announced, turning to the front again.
"Great." Dean helped himself to a spoonful of ice cream.
"Now what, Dean?" Sam asked, again.
Dean looked up, seeing a sort of blush on his brother's face. "Well, you could either stop noticing her now, or go sit down beside her and talk."
"What would I say?" Sam asked immediately, and Dean laughed slightly at how his brother didn't even consider the other option.
"You could start by asking her name." Dean explained, as patiently as he could. "Then I'm pretty sure she'll lead the conversation."
"As simple as that?" Sam gulped once more.
"Well, you could dance like a chicken or riddle her too." Dean replied, sarcastically.
"Dean, come on." Sam gave his brother a look.
"See," Dean leaned towards his brother. "Frankly, she seems fourteen or fifteen to me. But since you, Sammy, have stilts for legs," he grinned. "She probably thinks you're older than twelve."
"So, do I tell her that?"
"No!" Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. "Stay off that subject."
"Okay." Sam nodded, preparing to stand up, when Dean pulled him down.
"And yeah, get her number." He told his little brother.
"What for?" Sam scrunched his nose. "What would I call her for?"
"Different stuff." Dean said, dismissively. "Take her out perhaps?"
"But we leave town in, like, a couple of hours. Dad is just clearing stuff with the police, and then we'll leave." Sam reasoned.
"Well then, how about when you're older?" Dean offered.
"But-"
"Sammy. That's what you're supposed to do. That's normal." Dean told his brother, with a sigh. "And you know what? If you do score," Dean corrected himself. "I mean, if you do get her number, I'll tell you what to do with it."
Sam brightened up. "Okay." He stood up, and looked at the girl, who smiled back, and stood up too. Immediately, Sam turned to his brother. "D-Dean! She just stood up too!"
"Congratulations." Dean muttered, as he dug into his pocket and brought out a ten dollar note, which he pressed into Sam's hand. "Then, walk with her instead, and both of you can get yourself icecream."
Sam looked at his brother, his face bright. "Sounds good, I guess."
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The monsters of the world and books, were all real, and it was all up to him to end them. The entire burden, of saving the world from the bad guys, on his shoulders.
No, it was a nightmare.
Sam looked to his right for reassurance and found Dean sleeping, the sheets wrapped around him, and his freckled face, scrunched even in sleep, eyes shut, and mouth open.
Sam smiled a bit. Dean would always be there. He was the reality. He would never have to be alone, because his elder brother would always, always be there. For him. By him. In front of him.
Sam went back, to a better dream.
But little did little Sammy know, that not more than a few decades later,
