Originally written/posted: January 2012
Fandom: Supernatural (2006)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 603 words
Notes: Not reread.
For a being that isn’t supposed to feel emotion, Castiel feels more than his fair share.
There are things that Castiel cannot explain, things that he wishes he could, but can’t because he’s neither knowledgeable enough, nor determined enough to find out. This is not to say that Castiel is stupid or undetermined, but rather that he knows a little about a lot; just enough to make him dangerous. He’ll research and look into what he feels is important, and ignores everything else.
Some might call this reckless. He just calls it being responsibly reasonable.
Dean is one of the things that Castiel cannot explain.
Dean Winchester is possibly, arguably, the most dangerous person Castiel has ever met.
It’s because of Dean Winchester, that Castiel is no longer able to ignore the hole burning deep inside of him, something that he spent years ignoring because he had to–he’s long since accepted that he’s different than the other angels, but this doesn’t mean he’s able to show them just how different he actually is–the feelings that he can actually identify that course through him sudden and fast aren’t supposed to be possible for him. It hits him the hardest when he’s alone, when Dean or Sam, and sometimes it’s both of them, have sent him away, sometimes, maybe he leaves by himself, because there’s not much human interaction Castiel can take before it all hits him in a rush: that he will never be just human, he’s an angel at the heart of everything; it makes him feel like an outcast even when the Winchesters have been nothing but civil.
The emotions that he feels when he’s alone aren’t guarded like they are when he’s not, they’re strong, vivid, and sometimes he lets himself pretend that it’s okay. That it’s not completely and entirely morally wrong–at least for angels–to be feeling anything other than passive indifference. On his better days, he’s able to push it away and deny, something that he learned from Dean, because on his best days he barely recognizes that it’s there. On his worst, Castiel wallows in entitlement and dotes on the past, a time before Dean Winchester and his bright, brilliant green eyes that Castiel has grown accustomed to.
Dean is a precarious man. He’s uncharted territory where the terrain and the climate change frequently–sometimes too sudden to predict, which to someone like Castiel, who is so used to being right when it comes to humans and the way that they operate, is scary.
But at the same time, there is something intriguing about him. Something that gives Castiel burning hope that Dean isn’t the cracking, broken shell of a man that never quite matured, that maybe, somewhere buried deep under the deflective mask he wears, is someone. Someone that exists, and shows as much as he feels. Dean isn’t much of a someone because there are times when Castiel looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes and realizes that there isn’t anything human left in the man. That Castiel, remarkably, is more human.
He doesn’t pry, nor does he dig, but rather, Castiel sits and waits, is patient with Dean–which he’s sure has never quite happened before. Dean has never been expected to be patient, but has been expected kind, but ruthless, forceful in his tenderness. There has always been a cause to the effect, and normally it has been negative. Castiel wants that to change, desperately, has never wanted anything more. He’s never care this much about a human, has never cared about anything more than his family, but Dean is the exception.
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