He’s 26 dude! 

“Can you tilt your face to the right? Just a little bit.”

Dean had to be careful not to drop his pencil. His palms were sweaty, no matter how hard he tried to calm himself.

„Like this?“ Cas asked. He lay on Dean’s bed, only dressed in thin cotton trousers.

The dim light hit Castiel’s skin in just the right way. It accentuated his facial features and gave depth to his muscles that were visible, now that the angel had rid himself of his shirt.

Dean took a deep breath and let his hand guide the pencil across the paper, let the pencil glide over the already sketched out lines until he found a rhythm.

Cas had found his old sketch book as they packed. Dean had never shown his work to anyone. He wasn’t an artist or anything like that. Drawing was just another way to release stress. At least it used to be.

And never had he been asked to draw someone. The people he drew were usually strangers, or his family based on memory.

When Cas had turned the pages to a drawing of himself, trenchcoat and all, standing in a field of grass next to a windmill, he had paused as his lips parted. He had looked at Dean then, and his gaze was so gentle that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

„Would you draw me now?“ Cas had asked. His voice was soft, almost unsure if he was allowed to break their silence.

„Of course.“

So Dean had asked him to make himself comfortable on the bed as he himself sat down in the chair at the desk.

That wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the evening, but he couldn’t deny that it excited him. It was the first time that his model was right in front of him and unmoving.

Cas lay perfectly still, his eyes the only movement Dean noticed. Cas observed him from his spot on the mattress. They didn’t speak unless it was about a change in position. The sound of the pencil on paper filled the room and after a while, managed to calm Dean’s nerves.

He didn’t know how long it took until he was satisfied with his work, but based on the pain in his neck, it took a while.

Dean licked his lips.

„Done.“

Cas began to move again. He sat up in bed and made space as Dean went over to him.

He carefully took the drawing from Dean’s hands, and the gentle expression found its way back onto his face.

Cas‘ fingers lightly brushed over the lines as he looked at it.

„Thank you, Dean.“

Dean let out a nervous laugh.

„Nothing to thank me for.“ Dean’s voice was quiet. He looked at Cas, let his gaze wander over his face and down to his chest. It was a nice chest.

When he looked up again, Cas smiled at him. It reached his eyes and let them appear bluer.

„What?“

„Didn’t you just spend hours looking at me?“ Cas tilted his head, and Dean knew the question was in good humour.

„Do you want me to stop?“