Hi folks! Welp, I've never written for the Supernatural fandom, but I figured I'd try my hand at another of my favorite pairings other than Hetalia's USUK: Destiel. Also, this is to prove I'm not dead! xD I know it's been awhile since I updated, but I'm working on pretty big project for Halloween. Should be interesting. ;) Either way, here's a brief Destiel drabble for my first attempt at the pair!

Set post season 7!

Pastel Green

"You're not human, Cas," Dean growled into the heated, but tiny space between them.

"I am aware of this," Cas returned, his head cocked slightly to the right in his signature gesture of confusion. Of course that factor mattered, but why Dean brought it up, he didn't even want to know.

"It ain't right," the hunter growled back, trying to inch away. The gnarled bark of a tree interfered, cutting off Dean's route of escape. He grit his teeth, retaining a harsh curse.

"I haven't a preference." Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, and fallen from grace enochian misfit, bowed his head. His glass-blue eyes were fixed on the rolling puffs of black fog that seemed to seep out of everything living thing here. A tiny wisp swirled around his ankle as if trying to ensnare him it its ethereal tendrils. "But I am aware of your misconception of... certain emotions."

"Oh, 'cause you're an expert on emotions. Right?" Dean retorted, his brows furrowing in more than just annoyance. Who was Cas to try and lecture him on emotions? Before he'd met the hunter, Cas had never known human feelings. He'd never known happiness, sadness, loss, hurt, comfort, compassion or anything else that distinctly separated Dean and Cas. He'd never known this emotion that Dean had felt burning in the pit of his stomach for ages. He'd never known the thing that had driven Dean to hunt, to search, and to kill for most of his life, and more so now than ever before. Cas had never known love.

Or at least Dean liked to tell himself. Day in and day out, it was a hungry beast that savagely tore at his heart and chewed on the very fabric of his sanity. Dean was prey to a monster he thought only humans were victim to.

But Castiel knew better. He always had. The moment he'd laid eyes on the hunter for the first time in Hell, he'd known. Dean was more than just another rowdy, raunchy 'mud monkey'. Dean was a powerful man, built from hard muscle, the blood of his kills and the agony he bore on his shoulders with pride. And Cas had seen him at his absolute weakest. He'd seen his quivering flesh beneath the knife of a mad butcher in Hell's belly. Cas had seen him succumb to the deed of tearing apart his own species, watching the twisted gleam of insanity haunt those tawny-green eyes as he carved.

But Dean was more. And as Castiel had gripped the hunter's shoulder, then wrenched him from the fire with all his might, he had made a promise to himself. One he'd never spoken of, and never would. Castiel had sworn to himself that he would look beyond Dean's humanity as a boundary between them. He would learn what made this man tick and if all these emotions he'd watched Dean suffer through were worth it. Because Cas wanted to know these things, and wanted to break down every barrier that made an angel an angel and a human a human. Castiel was ready to tear down that wall.

But Dean wasn't.

And the strange ache in his heart the fallen angel was painfully familiar with at this point wracked his body. No, Dean wasn't ready to cross that threshold and meet Castiel in the middle. The blue-eyed angel would have to be the one to move forward. He would have to be the one to untangle all of these emotions he knew so little of. And it wasn't fair.

Dean had had his entire life to learn these feelings and decode them for their hidden message. Cas had had no more than a few years, and in that time he'd fought a civil war, become a false deity, saved the Winchesters and sent them back in time again and again. It hadn't left him much time to reflect on the pain knotting his gut and twisting his heart.

Shouldn't Dean understand? Surely he must have known the answer to the secret the universe had withheld from the broken angel. This thing, this awful, horrible, agonizing, unique, intriguing and driving thing running rampant in his mind had to have a name to curse. It had to have a cure. Because Castiel couldn't bear it anymore.

"Dean," the angel began, stepping forward.

"Stop- Cas, stop comin' closer!" the hunter ordered with a gravelly command.

"I can't, Dean. I have to know," Castiel insisted, feeling his heart pound mercilessly against his ribs.

"There's nothin' to know! I told you, it ain't right!"

"You told your brother that, but I see the guilt in your heart. You didn't mean those words. You wanted Sam to be happy. Do you not want happiness for yourself?"

Dean couldn't hide from the angel. Cas read him like a crisp, open book now. No, like he had before, when humanity hadn't clouded his judgment. When he'd demanded respect and faith that Dean hadn't been obliged to give, but that was before Lucifer and the angel war and the Leviathans had torn Dean's world asunder. And Cas had been through all of it too. He'd been fighting his own battle, and subsequently Dean's as well. It had taken a fatal toll on Cas, and it was something Dean never let slip his mind.

This though, as Cas continued to advance, piercing into his soul with those bright blue eyes, had the hunter's knees feeling weak. It was completely illogical, he rationalized; facing werewolves, changelings, demons and devils couldn't make him feel so weak, but Cas...

Well, Cas had always been one of the few things that could bring the infamous hunter to his knees. The lone angel, shattered and reborn again, mind crushed and body broken too many times for Dean to truly fathom in his steeled heart could cripple him with words alone.

"You're wrong. You can't possibly understand!" Dean choked out, still trapped as Cas moved closer. The angel's compact chest brushed against his barrel torso before Cas sensed he was more than close enough. The hunter's lips had gone dry, and his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. No matter how much he wanted to tell Cas all the reasons this shouldn't be, nothing came out.

Cas leaned closer until Dean could feel the warmth of his breath against his lips.

"Dean, I'm afraid that isn't true. I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord, and I understand many things. And I think I am beginning to understand this emotion you humans seem to treasure so deeply."

The hunter swallowed hard, his pale green eyes held by Cas' own glass blues.

Green. The color of living things, of energy, or nature, of honesty. They'd never truly been honest. But it was all either had craved for far too long. And for Castiel, the green in Dean's eyes was a perfect mirror, reflecting everything he needed to see to understand the trembling hunter he pressed against. Because green was Castiel's color, his symbolic need for all the things Dean was and wasn't.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean? What emotion?" Dean finally choked out, his heart pounding with the angel's.

Cas pressed flush against Dean, the warmth of their bodies flooding the nonexistence space that had once left them apart. His lips were on Dean's. He didn't press or force, didn't beg or plead, he simply felt the agonizing perfection of finally doing this.

Dean was too stunned to push the angel away, not that he wanted to though. Cas's lips were chapped, but felt strangely enticing against his own. It was something slow, a much-needed respite from the fast-paced whirlwind of a life he'd endured. And he found that he liked it. No, more than that. He needed it, wanted it wholly, and would succumb to it without hesitation. Dean knew it was -

"Love," Castiel breathed against his lips, sealing them forever as more than just a hunter and his guardian angel.