I miss those blue eyes
How you kissed me at night
I miss the way we sleep
Like there's no sunrise
Like the taste of your smile
I miss the way we breathe.
Some mornings Dean wakes up half expecting someone to be looking at him, watching him. Observing him. He stares at the empty half of the bed, trying to recall where he is. Then the memories rush through his mind and in a swift moment he remembers.
Remembers the apocalypse, hell, everything. Remembers the reason those blue eyes are missing and why his bed feels so empty. The war was over now, and his angel had better things to attend to.
He never could remember when he started referring to Castiel as "his angel". The idea had always been there, especially since Dean has his handprint burned into his flesh for eternity. It's forever a reminder of what was. The bond between the two, according to him, was stronger than the one the angel shared with Sam. It wasn't a lie, but he still had his doubts.
Dean's hand brushes over the scar and even more memories resonate in his mind. Only, the memories are bittersweet. Memories of fleeting happiness, of brief physical contact, of everything. Everything that was meaningful in his private little world.
The most profound memory is one that will stay with Dean forever. The night Castiel answered a silent prayer in the early hours of the morning. It was a weak moment for him, and Dean thought no one was listening to his fears in the bitter quiet of the motel room. The sound of wings brought him back to reality, and he turned only to be greeted with those blue eyes. Blue eyes, which had been paired with a soft smile. A soft smile that was directed at him.
"Be at peace." And Castiel placed his hand softly on Dean's shoulder. The hunter collapsed into his arms, which folded around him like a protective shield. His protective shield.
"If you tell Sam about this, any of this, I will have to hurt you." Dean's threat was muffled by the angel's trench coat. The one his face was resting against, giving him this sense of comfort.
The threat turned Castiel's soft smile into a bright grin, which shines right through Dean to his core. His heart responds before his mind has a chance to catch up.
The angel lets out a soft gasp as Dean's mouth presses against his. It's brief, chaste, yet filled with passion that was hidden deep in his heart. When his mind finally catches up and he's forcing himself away from Castiel, retreating to the other end of the room and the two stare at each other wondering what to make of the situation.
Surprisingly, it is Castiel who makes the first move. He walks hesitantly towards him, cautious of his movements, and he takes Dean's face in his hand's and utters only two words.
"It's okay."
It was all the incentive Dean ever needed to kiss an Angel of the Lord senseless. He lunged forward, kissing Castiel, pushing him down on the bed. He only pulled back once that night, to remove his shirt, and all the while those blue eyes watched him with a desire Dean knew all too well.
Neither of them ever wanted the sun to rise over the horizon as their breaths became short, quick, synchronized. By morning, the two lay quietly entangled in bed sheets, holding each other. Caressing each other, trying to prolong the inevitable day. Castiel is the first to get up. He kisses Dean, softly whispering affectionate words he departed.
Words Dean never had the chance to reciprocate.
Words that kept Dean awake at night, praying to his angel, hoping that their bond will bring him back.
But Castiel never appears.
But I never told you
What I should have said
No I never told you
I just held it in
And now I miss everything about you.