it starts out slow. the small comments in regards to castiel’s newest friendship. the comments don’t bother him -- not at first, anyway. he suspects it’s due to his nature. after all, the winchesters have been his only lasting friends for as long as they’ve known him. ( he was not made to be a social creature. ) he suspects it’s dean’s way of expressing his enjoyment in watching him expand his friendships. but, slowly, the comments turn to quips. ones castiel recognizes as displeasure from the eldest winchester. they sharpen the longer castiel spends time with eden.
he’s noticed her reaction to dean’s presence as well. her own displeasure with his interruptions becoming clearer to the angel. though, he cannot determine if that has to do with his comments or more with castiel’s attention always being pulled from her. he watches as their quips become shorter towards one another, angrier in certain moments. ( like the moment dean walked into the kitchen an hour earlier than normal, announcing his intent to make pancakes. castiel had offered him a small smile and a nod, despite his lack of need for food. eden had promptly told him to fuck off, before pulling castiel by his wrist out of the room. )
then, of course, there was the moment in the war room. when he had been wandering the halls aimlessly before hearing dean voicing his name. he wasn’t being called, but rather talked about. he had only heard, ‘with you and cas, but if you wanna tell me --’ before eden’s laughter was pouring through the walls. something he was not used to, yet, the sound had caused a small smile to pull against his features, his feet moving him closer to the sound. only for the smile to fall once more when he felt dean’s back collide with his shoulder -- hard. as if he had stumbled. blue eyes full of confusion had shifted between the two of them, before dean spun on his heels and fled the room. he’d listened as eden called him a ‘fucking moron’ as he left, and castiel was sure he’d notice a slight tint of red against dean’s cheeks. eden hadn’t been able to tell him -- not fully. anytime she started, more laughter poured from her lips, instead of words. ( though, castiel didn’t mind. he simply offered her a smile of his own, and let the moment lay. )
of course, whatever had happened, didn’t seem to leave dean’s mind -- instead, he felt the need to confront castiel, instead of eden. he’d been stopped outside of his room with a hand gripped just above the crook of his elbow. ( it’s moments like this, he is thankful for the grace still flickering within him -- helping to keep more human reactions hidden. ) castiel had patiently waited as dean tripped over his words -- as if asking castiel was harder than asking eden. ‘i tried to talk to her, but she just laughed. so, if anything’s going on, you know you can tell me, right ?’ the words only burrowed confusion deeper into him, his head tilting as if a new angle could help him understand dean’s words. “what should i be telling you, dean ?” again, castiel is sure he spots a tint of red creeping up dean’s neck, and onto his cheeks. he knows he feels the others grip tighten. ‘you and eden, man. if something’s going on, you could tell me.’
blue eyes had stared at green for two minutes, before he's turning from dean’s grasp, and making his way back through the halls of the bunker. he’s vaguely aware of dean calling after him -- trailing after him, until he realizes exactly where the angel is heading. knuckles rasp once against eden’s door, before the handle is turned, and castiel is pushing himself into her room. brows furrow deeply as he stares at her for a brief moment. “is there something ‘going on’ between us that i should be telling dean about ?” hands, previously raised to complete his air - quotes, now fall back to his side as he keeps his focus on eden.
