Clueless

A/N: This is the first I've ever written of Supernatural, and also my very first bit of M/M, so please be kind, I'm new to this and I've watched eight seasons of Supernatural over the last month (yes, that means way too many episodes per day, I'm aware of that) Anyways, I don't have a beta, so forgive the mistakes that are probably lingering around since English isn't my native language. That said, without further ado, have at it, and if you were to leave me a review, well, that would be great 3

The thing is, when you're an angel, you see the world with a certain perspective.
Humanity, humanity is limitations, boundaries, weaknesses, flaws, mistakes.
When you're an angel like Castiel, you see different things, too.
Love, hope, forgiveness, humanity is chance, it's emotion, it's freedom, and it's incredibly beautiful, but it's also incredibly grounded. Still.
Humans get up in the morning, make breakfast, wait for their caffeine dose to kick in and then get on with their day. Most of them work long hours for a crappy pay, doing a job they hate so they can send their kids to college, because that's all the eternity they get.
Some of them though, some of them are different, stronger, some of them are more important.
Some of them are named Dean Winchester and when they get on with their day, they stop the world from ending, or Hell from breaking loose, or Heaven from rioting.
Some of them have sad green eyes deeper than the oceans, and Castiel's seen how deep the oceans are.
Some of them smile brighter than the stars, and Castiel's a star himself, so he knows how bright those things shine.
Some of them, you'd have to agree, are fucking beautiful, but they're still incredibly small.
When you're an angel, and you've seen both the start and the end of things come and go, you can love humans as much as you want, you can think their limitation is beauty and their fear is strength, but you'll never think or want those criteria to apply to you.
You'll never even consider (or maybe you'll try, if you're like Castiel) what it means, what it would do to you, to be that limited, that human.

Castiel has all the time in the world to think about it now.
Except in probably less than thirty years his brain cells with stop responding, soon joined by the rest of his soon decomposing body, and what are thirty years when you're an angel and you've seen the march of eons? They're nothing, really.
However, he has time to think about it now, about the fact that he will end and it won't necessarily be in blood and light, that maybe his body will change and weaken and his mind will darken, and, eventually, he might even end up in dust instead, just like everything else does.
He can think about how he'll have to wake up, every morning, make breakfast, and wait for his caffeine dose to kick in before he can function properly, or maybe, if he's lucky enough, Dean will make breakfast and he'll just hang around the kitchen in his pajamas, making remarks about the weather and they'll wait for the caffeine to kick in together.

Now that he's human, and he has all this time to waste when he really can't afford to waste time anymore, he can also wonder about why he would consider himself so lucky to spend his early morning wandering around a kitchen with Dean, why his presence would make such a difference and why his stomach makes certain movements that aren't supposed to happen when they're in the same room.

As an angel, you look at humanity, and its limitation, and you can love it all you want, but you don't stop to wonder about what loving means, or why it makes your knees go weak and your brain act stupid, because there ins't a strict need to.
(Or, if you're like Castiel, because you're sensing the answer isn't something you would know how to handle, but that's another story.)

As a human, Castiel thinks he wants to spend his early mornings with Dean, wear his old clothes as his pajamas and watch tv together on the couch at night, using that robe that Dean likes so much as a blanket, because the heat is nice and it makes him want to sleep, and he finds sleeping is nice too, especially if you're close to someone that makes your stomach go all roller coaster on you, or that is Castiel's impression.

He wonders if Dean would let them do all those things, if he would even be okay with Castiel thinking them. Rationally, he is probably going to make breakfast, both for him and Sam and everyone who's currently staying with them because that's just Dean, and he'll most likely be the one to offer him his old clothing more willingly that his credit card for shopping, but the cuddling? (Because yes, that's where Castiel's headed. Even if he doesn't know the word, that's what he's thinking about, what he wants, to cuddle with Dean, or at least that's the start, the beginning of what he thinks he wants with him now.)

The angel - no, the human - can't come up with an answer, his knowledge of human boundaries and personal space still too vague, and doesn't even know why he cares that much, why he craves the hunter's affection so apprehensively now, but he honestly couldn't be bothered to figure it out. Thinking is hard now. It drains his mind and his soul like a fight, and wondering about his feelings is even worse, it's confusing and painful and new, and his stomach won't stop turning, which is no help either.

He has no answers. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, newbie human and constant failure, is clueless. The resolution that would guide him through bad and worse choices back when he had his grace is gone now, replaced by thoughts of Dean Winchester and whether or not he would agree to cuddle up with him on the couch. Great, he thinks, just great.

His musings are however interrupted by Dean himself, calling him from downstairs.
"Cas" he casually yells out "dinner!"

And Castiel doesn't know why, but his stomach turns again, and he's perfectly content with the feeling.