A rustle of wings. He hears Castiel's voice, hesitant but pining.
"Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah?" His own voice is gruff.
"I…I wrote you a poem. Would you like to hear it?"
Cas' new outlook on life did have its advantages, but Dean got a little tired of it all sometimes. It was like looking after a child, a petulant one at that.
"I'm all ears." He sighs as he watches Cas produce a crumpled piece of paper from the side pocket of his trench coat. Dean notes that he's still wearing the uniform they gave him at the hospital.
"Hey, isn't it time you…uhh…ditched the getup?" Cas looks puzzled. "I mean, you've been wearing that thing since you got out the hospital."
Pulling off his ever pensive expression, Cas briefly reverts to his old persona in earnest. "No, Dean. These clothes are symbolic of the relieving of my burden. Why should I ever want to take them off? I wear them with pride and alacrity."
"All right all right," Dean says, rolling his eyes, "get on with the poem already."
Cas clears his throat and reads proudly from the paper, although Dean gets the impression that he could probably recite the whole thing without it.
"We first meet
You're complete
Bobby tries to hit me
I put him to sleep
Raised you
Anew
From perdition
Castiel on a mission
Gripped you tight
Angel in white
(Except not white but more brown-gray)
But oh well, hey!"
Dean stands impassively after the poem has finished, unimpressed. He watches as Castiel's face falls slowly at his reaction. Delight descends into hurt.
"Do you not like it?" Disappointment creeps into his husky voice, and his brow furrows.
"I, uhm. Does it just end like that?"
"W-Well," Cas stammers, "I was hoping it would turn out to be one of those clever lines that loop back to the beginning. You know?"
"…"
"S-So after the 'hey', you would go straight back to 'we first meet', so it's like you're saying 'hey' to me and I like that because we never got to say hello properly." His voice falters at the end. He shuffles shyly.
Dean's about to say something else, but another rustle and Cas is gone.