#impalaimagining

You had originally set him up to sleep on the couch. He had laid there for a while but he had ended up sneaking into your bedroom. You had left the door open, letting him know that you were there if he needed you. For a moment, he loomed in the door frame, looking like a frail innocent child, his voice soft and pleading. You rolled over and propped yourself up on your elbows, your lids heavy and half closed as you looked at him. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you sighed with a warm smile and scooted over on the bed. “Come on.” You whispered and you could see the smile on his face and quickly make his way to you.

He immediately crawled into the bed and rolled on his side to face you. There was an awkward moment of staring before you both moved closer to each other. His arms rested against his own chest as his face nuzzled against your chest. You rested your chin on his head as your arms came to wrap around him, holding him like a tiny child. Your fingers combed through short black locks and it wasn’t long before you heard his soft snores. He was so fragile and broken, nothing more than a scared little boy who needed someone. From that night on, Cas didn’t even try to sleep anywhere else, knowing the only place he would ever get a good night’s sleep was in your arms.

It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable at all. There was that first initial moment where neither of you were sure what to do but it passed quickly. You fell into an easy pattern, a simple routine. You had went shopping with him, getting a few essentials with the credit card Dean had given him. You were teaching him the basics when it came to food and drinks. And you even undertook the awkwardness of teaching him about personal hygiene. It would have been nice to have a man around for trips to the bathroom to help him with...those kinds of questions but it was just you. So it was safe to say, you had seen Castiel in all of his glory plenty of times. You never said anything and you tried to hide your blush but he was understanding of the fact that you were just uncomfortable and the situation was less than ideal for him as well.

Now, as he brushed his teeth, he whimpered lightly before finally giving up. You noticed he winced in pain, bringing his face closer to the mirror. The concern on his face brought you closer, putting a hand on his cheek to make him face you. You grimaced lightly when you saw the state of his lips. They were chapped to the point of cracking and in the process of brushing his teeth, he had split one of the cracks open. “Aww, sweetie, your lips are all chapped.” Your frown pulled at yours lips as your other hand rose to wipe away a drop of blood. His blue eyes remained locked on your face, only wincing slightly at your touch. “Let me go get you some chapstick.”

Castiel’s face wrinkled at the word and his face fell when your hands pulled away so you could leave the room. His body leaned slightly to watch you walk into your bedroom and disappear for a moment. His tongue instinctively slid over his bottom lip but he instantly regretted it. He turned to the mirror again, his fingers lifting to poke at the red lines of his chapped lips. His lips had always been chapped but they had never done this before. They stung and it was most uncomfortable.

When you returned, you were holding a small black tube and you brought yourself close to him. “It’s for your lips.” You stated simply when he looked at the tube with a wrinkled forehead. He turned to face you as you popped the lid off and twisted the balm to the top. One hand came to rest against the side of his face again and you brought the tube to his lips. He watched you carefully, noticing the lines of concentration on your face and he smiled faintly. “Don’t move your lips.” You scolded with a half smile of your own. You slid the balm slowly over his lips, evenly applying it gently to his chapped lips. “Now, do this.” You rubbed your lips together in demonstration and he followed your example. “That better?”

He nodded his head before he found your eyes again. He always looked so timid and innocent causing you to smile before handing the tube to him. “Apply it whenever you feel your lips getting dry.” You watched as Cas’s tongue began to peak through the corner of his lips. You pointed a finger in his face and put on your sternest face. “And stop licking them! That only makes it worse.” His head fell, just like a small child that had been scolded and you felt bad. Your finger tucked under his chin and lifted his face back to yours and you gave him a sweet smile, just to reassure him that you were not angry.

There was that smile again, his blue eyes dazzling even though his lips probably hurt with the stretch of his lips. Even though they were chapped and the bleeding had barely stopped, his lips still looked kissable and you found yourself staring at them. You licked your own lips and before you knew it, his finger was against your lips and your eyes lifted to his once again. “Do not tell me to refrain from licking my lips if you are going to turn around and do the same thing.” You could see the playful smirk on his face and your face fell with a sarcastic scowl and a shake of your head. You pushed his finger away and turned to leave the room.

His hand was quick to stop you, grabbing you gently by the wrist. You looked over your shoulder and his eyes were softer now. There was something warm and inviting in his gaze, a look that could always make you weak in the knees. “Thank you, Y/N.” He muttered sincerely and you nodded. “Really. For everything.” You smiled in return and brought yourself closer. A hand lifted to stroke his stubbly cheek, tilting your head as you gave him a fond smile. You didn’t say anything but words weren’t necessary right then. Both of you stayed like that for a moment. His hand resting around your wrist and your other hand resting against his face, just staring at one another with understanding grins.

He was the first to break the stillness. Before you could even register what was happening, his slick lips were pressed softly against yours. It caught you off guard for a moment but when his hand let go of your wrist and moved to rest on your hip, the tiny jolt of electricity that sparked between you urged you to kiss him back. Your arms laced around his neck, bringing your body closer to his as you deepened the kiss, his own arms sliding around your waist.

The kiss was gentle and slow, just lips and soft touches. When they pulled away it was only because they both needed to catch a breath. Resting your foreheads together, you both let out a breathy chuckle, lips pulling into content smiles. Your cheeks were a light shade of pink as was his. He winced with his smile, reminded of his chapped lips, your face grimaced in sympathy but your smile didn't falter. You simply took the tube again and spread a new layer of balm slowly against his lips.

His warm blue eyes seemed to dazzle all the more as his smile softened. His large hands rested on your waist, fingers rubbing against your shirt. Your hands moved to comb your fingers through his hair, your forearms resting against his shoulders. “You're welcome, Castiel.” You whispered softly before kissing his stubbly cheek. You giggled at the feeling, the way it tickled against your lips.

“I guess shaving is next.” Castiel stated as if ashamed, his eyes falling.

Your eyes softened as your lips came to his cheek again before you caught his eyes. Your head shook lightly, your nose wrinkling. “I like it. Just like I like your chapped lips.” Your laugh sounded like a schoolgirl giggle when he smiled at you again.

He decided it was time to go and visit the bunker right then and there while the boys were away on their hunt. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley was standing by the bunker towards the back. He took a good look around, the trees in the area have settled its leaves on the ground, an array of red, yellow, and orange everywhere, except for one place. The leaves seemed to have been raked and piled up. “So, someone is here…”

Crowley muttered to himself, almost bitterly, his eyes gazing around before his gaze settled on a figure. His eyebrows went up in surprise and slight shock at what he saw. A female was sitting on a foldable chair while wearing a pale purple sweater that hung down to mid-thighs, black jeans covering her waist down. The sweater had a fluffy white collar that seemed more like a neck scarf, and a baby blue hair band was wrapped around her head. She was sitting with a book in hand, her back faced to Crowley.

“This is what they’ve been protecting?” Without a single hint of remorse in his tone for what he was planning on doing, he stormed up to the woman with narrowed eyes, calling her out furiously. “Hey, you!”

But the female didn’t react, like she was in her own little world, continuing to read the book in hand, which only made Crowley clench his fists as he was now within arm’s length. He snatched the book in her hand and faced her, ready to start chewing her out.

To his own discomfort, she didn’t have the reaction he was expecting from her. There was no fear, no shock, not even a hint of annoyance on her face. The woman merely looked up at him in surprise before flashing him a smile of pure innocence.

Crowley scrunched his face up. This morning was already awful because of the Winchesters, but now, he was taking his anger out on this human. “The bloody hell kind of joke is this?!” He demanded, raising his voice and glaring daggers at the woman. Yet again, nothing in her stance showed that she was scared or nervous about his presence. She just continued to smile at him, although the smile faltered a little. She tilted her head in confusion, raising an elegant eyebrow at him, silently asking him why he was yelling at her.

“What’s so special about you that made the Winchesters make this bloody place a Fort Knox for supernatural beings?” Once again, he was met with no response, but he noticed that the woman’s gaze seemed to linger on his lips every time he spoke before glancing back up at his eyes. “Answer me, woman!!”

The female frowned a little, letting out a soft huff as she stood up and folded her arms over her chest then pointed at her book, which Crowley was still holding in his hand. “You want your stupid book back?” He questioned, watching the woman gaze at his lips again then nodding in response. Glancing at the cover of the book for just a second, Crowley burned it to ashes right in front of her, focusing a harsh gaze on the woman who was expression a look of sadness. “Don’t give me that pathetic face. You’re coming with me.”

He grabbed her arm in a death grip which caused the female to struggle against his death grip. “Stop moving,” he demanded, but with one harsh slap to his face, Crowley’s grip loosened just enough for the woman to wring her arm out of his hold and calmly walk into the bunker, locking the door behind her.

Crowley’s anger wasn’t lessening any bit, even if he did find a potential candidate for leverage against Sam and Dean. “I should have snagged her when I had the chance,” he growled to himself before disappearing back to hell and deciding to wait till tomorrow to snatch the woman.

The next day when he had calmed himself down, Crowley went back to take the woman, this time planning on sticking to his word of immediate capture, but what he saw was the opposite of what he expected. The woman had made a large pile of leaves then jumped into it with a bubble of laughter like a child.

Had he not attacked her yesterday? Shouldn’t she be inside, crying on the phone while calling Sam or Dean for help? Or have some sort of holy charm with her? Yet he sensed no such thing on her. She was clean. Almost too clean.

Wary of this strange woman, Crowley went up to her again, but this time, instead of the woman waiting for him to speak, she grinned up at him and pulled him into the pile of leaves. With a grunt, Crowley landed face first in the pile, leaves crunching obnoxiously under his weight. He lifted his head up to give the woman a strange look. “Now, love, shouldn’t you be running back to the bunker and calling the boys after the stunt I pulled yesterday?”

The female stared at his lips until he finished speaking before she shrugged her shoulders at him then tossed a handful of colorful leaves in the air, giggling in joy at the vibrant colors that flew around her. Once again, Crowley’s mind was sent into a whirlwind of confusion. “You’re peculiar…” He muttered to himself, deciding to observe the woman as she played around in the leaves, piling them back up and jumping into them again, even tossing small handfuls at Crowley, to which, he simply brushed them off his head and shoulders.

Crowley got out of the pile of leaves and followed the woman to the porch of the bunker. She opened the front door and invited him in, but Crowley gave her a look, raising his eyebrow at her. “Love, do you even know who I am?”

It suddenly occurred to Crowley that the reason why this woman wasn’t scared of him was because she might not know who he was. But he was wrong. She nodded her head almost excitedly, confirming she knew of his identity.

Crowley frowned. “Then why are you not nervous within my presence?” The female once again shrugged her shoulders then stepped inside the bunker, leaving the door open. Just a moment later, she came back out with two glasses of what looked like pink lemonade, passing one of the glasses towards Crowley. But he refused. “Love, you can’t fool me. That juice there is made with some weird magic potion, is it not?”

The female watched his lips then looked up at Crowley’s eyes before shaking her head. Crowley rolled his eyes with a scoff, refusing the drink either way. The woman shrugged her shoulders before drinking the lemonade happily. “Why do you not speak? Are you cursed by a witch?” Again, the female kept her lips closed as she shook her head in response. “Then why?”

She seemed to contemplate telling him or not, but after a moment’s hesitation, she placed one of the cups on the step of the porch then raised her hand up to the corner of her lips, tapping it lightly. She then trailed her hand to just inches before her ear started and tapped her face again. Almost instantly, Crowley realized what she had said, or rather, motioned to.

“You’re deaf.” She nodded in response before putting her hand out, silently asking him for his hand. Though wary, he held his hand out for her. She tipped her cup over his hand and dripped some of the lemonade onto his hand quickly before he reeled it back. But nothing happened. Crowley looked up from his hand to the woman. “So, you didn’t put anything in the lemonade.” He stated rather than questioned, to which once again, she nodded. “Then what in the world are you doing with the Winchesters of all people, love?”

She shrugged her shoulders, the explanation obviously requiring words since the woman deduced that Crowley didn’t know sign language. And this was how their normal daily routine went. Crowley would come over for some lemonade, ask her a couple questions, then leave once he got bored. But what he didn’t notice was that the young woman was looking forward to his daily visits when the boys were gone.

A month and a half had passed since Crowley and (Y/N) first started ‘talking’, and to (Y/N)’s relief, neither Sam nor Dean noticed Crowley’s constant appearance. At first, Crowley was only wanting to learn more about (Y/N) so he could use her against the boys at her weakest, but day by day, he slowly started getting attached to her unconsciously. He’d notice all the small perks and quirks about her, her favorite colors, her favorite drink which he now didn’t mind drinking, what she liked and disliked, and all of this was without (Y/N) even raising a finger. Crowley never forced her to speak ASL with him, keeping his questions to a ‘yes and no’ format.

He did later find out why she wasn’t scared of him initially: she had a rare brain disorder called Urbach-Wiethe disease, which precluded her from experiencing fear of any sort, which he concluded was the main reason why the Winchesters took her in. She was an easy target because she didn’t emit any fearful reactions to ghosts, demons, werewolves, shapeshifters, wendigos, basically any supernatural creature in general.

Crowley learned how to make her pay attention when he wanted to speak, vibrations were what she was most sensitive of. So, if he needed her to pay attention to something or he was trying to tell her something, he’d stomp the ground if he wasn’t close enough to tap her shoulder.

But Crowley wasn’t the only one learning new things. (Y/N) noticed that Crowley was a rather passionate man and considerate, in his own way of course. He was quite careful and tended to spot the smaller things that she wouldn’t pick up on. He was awkward when it came to emotions, which she secretly found cute.

And through all the time they spent together, they always ended it in a pile of leaves. (Y/N)’s favorite season was Fall, and though they were forced to spend their entire time outdoors, she didn’t mind. She got to spend time with a man that wanted to learn more about her, not because he was required to, but because he wanted to, even if he didn’t admit it.

Dean and Sam were amazing people, she had no complaints about them, but Crowley, he had time to spend with her. And he always came back with more questions, his curiosity seemed endless.

On the day of their 2nd month anniversary of meeting one another, (Y/N) decided she wanted to tell Crowley what she had been hiding from him ever since that first week they met.

Lucky for her, Crowley beat her to it.

They were sitting by a small creek nearby, simply enjoying the small amount of peace they had when Crowley tapped her shoulder. (Y/N) turned to face him, giving him her full attention. Crowley inhaled deeply then pressed his lips together into a thin line before he faced her completely and spoke. But he didn’t use words. He used his hands.

My name is Crowley. I am King of Hell.

Here, he paused to check (Y/N)’s reaction, see if he got the hand signals right, and seeing the look of utter happiness on her face, he felt a sense of pride flare in his chest. “Now, love, pay close attention to this, because I won’t be repeating myself.” (Y/N) nodded her head rapidly as she watched his hands closely.

A book appeared in them with a snap of his fingers, the exact same book that Crowley had burned when they first met. He handed it over to (Y/N), who happily opened the book to the cover page, only to be met with a note. There was writing on it, but she couldn’t understand it. The writing was smudged and seemed to have been rushed. She looked up at Crowley with a questioning look just as he started signing again.

Will you be my Queen?

A cheeky smile appeared on her face, battering her eyelashes innocently at Crowley, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes. It was such a cute proposal that she simply couldn’t tease him for long. Crowley tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow while motioning for her to answer. Her reply?

Yes.

And with that, Crowley sealed the deal with a small smile of his own, his lips capturing hers in a surprisingly sweet and slow kiss.

In the end, Crowley didn’t find leverage against the boys. It became leverage against himself, his own weakness, but he didn’t mind. (Y/N) was an exception.

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“Nothing.” Dean’s voice faded into silence as you reached Sam’s room and dropped off his laundry.

You were too emotional over this but Dean hadn't spoken to you properly in days, maybe even weeks. He’d been busying himself with hunts and research subsequently ignoring you.

“Thanks, you okay?” Sam questioned as he took the pile of clothes from you.

“I’m fine.” You gave him the same smile you’d given Mary seconds ago. “I’m taking a shower, I think Dean’s found a hunt or something interesting his nose has been stuck in his laptop for days.”

When you emerged from the bathroom you sat on your side of the bed, leaving a wet trail in your path. The bedroom door was shut yet you could hear some form of argument down the hall. You were exhausted, choosing to ignore the yelling which was getting louder you towel dried your hair, slipped on some PJs and climbed into bed despite the fact it was 5 pm.

At some point during the evening, Dean joined you in bed, rolling over your hands met Dean’s chest and his laptop.

“Dean?” You sat up in bed, “What are you doing?” As you asked he slapped the laptop shut. “We need to talk.” You sighed.

“About?”

“Us.”

“What about us?” Dean questioned cluelessly as he put his laptop on the floor before pulling you into his arms. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re barely talking, you’re hunting nearly all the time, you’re on your laptop every second of the day, is there someone else?”

“Baby stop. No, there’s no one else. It's you, only you. I love you so damn much, I've been on my laptop so much because I've booked us something for this weekend.”

“You what?”

“Yeah, I was trying to be romantic.” Dean shrugged.

“I’m sorry I ruined it.” You felt yourself relax as all thoughts of Dean with another woman left your mind.

“You didn’t.”

“Do I get a hint as to where we’re going?”

“Maybe… Remember when.”

“God that could end anyway.” You interrupted him.

“Remember when I ate hot fudge off you naked, I sucked that mini marshmallow out of your belly button,” Dean smirked as you heard someone gag, looking up Sam was passing by your open door, his face contorted in an expression of pure disgust.

“I’m glad you’re both okay but that image is now seared into my brain.”

You and Dean fell into a fit of laughter as you cuddled each other.

“The cabin?”

“The cabin.” Dean nodded as he kissed you.

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