#lee writes

Inspired by @gettingbyi and my mom's birthday (she is such a big supporter of me doing anything that makes me happy), I decided to share a lil snippet of a Destiel space AU that I have been writing. I came up with a few bullet point ideas for the story a few years ago, found some inspo here and there to write bits of it, then found The Expanse and it lit a fire under me to see it through. First draft, no beta, I hope it excites someone bc I am definitely excited. :)

Three drinks apiece later, Dean and Castiel stepped off one of the outer elevators onto the viewing level. There were no windows on the station's outer hull as a safety protocol. Instead, there was a level equipped almost entirely of translucent screens that showed their surroundings. Only the floor was without screens, offering an anchor point. The nearly 3-D views could be too overwhelming for some residents of the station. Dean rarely went. Looking out through the stars at the vast nothingness didn't quite fill him with wonder the way it did for others, and looking over Earth or out to the moon gave him a sense of vertigo. It was Castiel’s idea to come and Dean was tipsy enough to give it another chance. Maybe being just this side of inebriated would spark some new love in him for the void and all its glitter. The area near the elevator was busy, but the further down the hall they walked, the more the crowd thinned out. The gentle, natural curve of the station meant that it felt like every step took Dean one step closer to walking right out into the vacuum. Dean chose to focus more on Castiel. Castiel stood to Dean’s left, a defined, solid barrier between him and the stars. Castiel had no problem keeping his eyes on the screens. He took it all in so passively, his hands clasped behind his back. Gazing at his profile, Dean didn't miss the little upturn of Castiel’s lips, unassuming and unaware, the clear sign of being happily drunk. The beer was never particularly powerful or tasteful, but with enough of them, one could get sufficiently toasty. Dean still hadn't managed to learn anything else about Castiel’s piloting past, but Dean did learn that Castiel grew up on domicile level 16 and that, like Dean, his mother had died while he was young. He didn't say how and Dean didn't feel the urge to follow up. He just followed beside Castiel, trying not to think too hard about the uninhabitable space the screens displayed. The silence was companionable; Dean didn't feel at a loss nor in a rush to say anything and Castiel didn't either. For a while, they just walked, Castiel’s eyes wavering from the screens only if there was someone he needed to avoid running into, Dean's attention rarely leaving the sharp profile of Castiel’s face. “I’m starting to think there's something on my face you're afraid to tell me about,” Castiel remarked plainly. Once more, not a judgement, simply an observation. Dean was flustered anyway, looking down at the floor. “Not...no, not you. I mean, it’s more I need that buffer to prove I won't just float off.” Dean was more embarrassed to admit that than to have been caught staring. Castiel just nodded and looked over at Dean. “Don't worry, you couldn’t ever float off fast enough that I couldn't catch you.” Dean glanced back up from the floor and found Castiel staring back at him with that small, half-drunk curl still on his lips. Dean did feel at a loss for what to say now. Castiel’s eyes asked nothing of him, expected nothing from him. He would catch Dean the same way he was a pilot, the same way they lived on a space station. Factually, without question. Dean licked his lips. “Don't go makin’ promises you can't keep, flyboy,” he said, the words more hushed than he'd wanted them to be, a heat rising up from under his collar.