Hello! I'm shitty with introductions so I'll just say what I'm gonna say. I'll be honest, this is my first attempt to write anything, and I finally worked up the nerve to do it; I just really wanted to try. This is a bit of a practice run for me, and I'd definitely love and appreciate any kind of feedback (constructive criticism in particular so I can understand what I need to try and improve on). Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Update: I'm a stickler for accuracy, so there've been some corrections. ^_^, Sorry for the overly long note!
~~~
Light drops of rain patter the windshield and roof of the impala, speckling the sleekly curved glass, leaving tiny meandering trails of rain at the periphery.
In the dim light from the night outside, Dean lets his eyelids droop slightly, watching the discoloration and shape of each droplet change as another falls to conjoin with it. He sighs, listening to the gentle rhythmic sounds of the rain against his baby.
He finds peace here, despite his taste in music. It wasn't normally his thing, but he didn't want to disturb the tranquility created here by blasting any particular genre. It had become a routine after a long drive to another shitty motel.
Maybe all the crap Sam spewed about therapeutic 'sounds of the forest', as lame as it sounded, wasn't so far off the mark, especially in their line of work.
Sam had gone in to the sleazy excuse of a motel a few minutes prior, mumbling something about showering. Dean hadn't exactly been exuberant after the drive, and had simply nodded in acknowledgment. He'd wait in the car until Sam had finished. It was just easier and more comfortable for him that way than to attempt to find a satisfying position on the guaranteed squalid smelling mattress. Not like they hadn't slept in the car before.
At some point, Dean must have dozed after habitually turning the engine off, his head uncharacteristically filled with a feeling of warmth and cotton. It felt like slight inebriation, only no sour, pungent miasma of the toxin.
"Dean."
"Guh…wha…?" Dean starts, as his head gently jerks from its awkward position. He'd recognized the voice, figuring it to be Sam graciously reminding him that he'd fallen asleep, drooling like an idiot, and that the shower was available.
Dean opens his eyes, gazing around, expecting some sort of breeze, or fluctuation in the stagnant air from the car door being opened. There was none. Just Castiel.
Seated in the passenger seat, staring out at the row of doors leading into different motel suites, as if he had always meant to be there, a little twinge of anger sparked inside Dean. It might have partially been because the angel had an annoying way of unnerving and surprising him with his sudden appearance all the damn time, and because Dean couldn't help but feel repugnant at the angel's presumed presumptuous nature of taking his brother's spot.
"Dude!" Dean punctuates the word by slamming his palm against the steering wheel. "Don't friggin' do that. Jeez…"
Castiel looks down into his lap, the expression on his face seemingly untroubled by his obtrusive entrance or Dean's tone. Dean still interprets the gesture as a reactionary Cas-mechanism to instill guilt at the somewhat harsh tone. He relents. Even he has to admit that it had been a delayed reaction. He stifles his misplaced hostility.
Dean sighs again, softening his expression, momentarily shutting his eyes. He cants his head to gaze at the angel.
"How long you been there?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to disturb you. I arrived a short time after Sam left," Cas answers. There's a pause, expectancy lit up all over Dean's face. "I was concerned for your well being. You seem a bit…'run down', if that is the correct term."
The other eyebrow quirks up.
"Well, that's awfully considerate," Dean drawls, somewhat sarcastically. He removes his palm from the steering wheel, and briskly takes hold of Cas's shoulder, giving it a firm jostle. He notes that it's almost as hard to move Cas's shoulder than it is to move a damned tree trunk. Friggin' angels.
Castiel impassively stares down at the rough hand on his shoulder. His vessel begins to feel warm and slightly tingly. He decides he likes the warmth the hunter's hand provides and instinctively shifts his shoulder under the dress shirt and unkempt trench coat to nestle closer into the touch.
"I am glad you are in good spirits. I hope the same is true for Sam," Cas intones, with a slight upturn of his lip.
It could be considered a smile. A Cas smile, Dean thinks. He smiles to himself, removing his hand.
"Yeah, well, it ain't easy. Thanks Cas." Dean sits forward, stretching his arms and torso as much as the cramped space in the car provides. He is content with knowing someone other than Sam has got his back. Something powerful and reliable. Someone special.
He leans back into his seat and ponders when Cas got like this; when he first arrived from Heaven, he'd had such a stick up his ass. He'd only been interested in the brothers' fates and had been loyal and dutiful to Heaven. A good little angel. Now he seemed genuinely concerned about them. About Dean.
Probably the old Winchester charm.
Dean is pulled from his thoughts when Cas mimics the gesture. There's a firm hand on his shoulder. Not the shoulder, but it's still a significant gesture for the socially retarded angel. He glances over to Castiel again, that same warm and cottony feeling ignites in his head and chest again. The warping is one thing, Dean thinks, but when he's fixed by the steely blue eyes and the firm grip he's currently under, it isn't only unnerving. It's…something else. It's definitely unnerving, though. It's a consistent strength he admires, and maybe something more.
Dean suddenly feels a little more than uncomfortable. More than he'll ever admit. There's only so much bravado testosterone can produce. His lips part to take in more air. Apparently, his nose can't fulfill the task alone anymore.
Not missing any details of Dean's flustered composure, Castiel's pensive eyes break the otherworldly staring contest, only to traverse Dean's facial features like a map until they reach Dean's parted lips. It's Cas's turn to take a breather. The tiniest intake of breath is audible between Cas's lips. There's no key or compass for what he's feeling. It's an uncharted area for Cas.
"I should uh…" Dean articulates expertly, while his eyes unintentionally rove Cas's seated figure. He tells himself that he's pretty fucking sure there are a lot of things to distractedly look at in the car, and that Cas shouldn't be one of them.
He clears his throat.
"I should go." Dean states, voice inclining at the end as if he'd just remembered what he was supposed to say.
"Yes. Of course." There is no awkwardness in Castiel's voice. Dean wishes there was so he isn't the only one who feels like a granola bar.
Sam's probably asleep by now anyway. There's no real urgency to go into the motel just yet, but he feels if he stays here any longer with Cas, very wrong things might happen.
Or maybe very right things.
Dean banishes the thought immediately. Damn Cas. Damn the considerate, reasonably attractive angel…attractive? It's only a fact, he tells himself. He's just never thought of it like that before.
"Dean?" Castiel's head is tilted just slightly, as if he's going to ask what just conspired between them. Dean kind of wants to know, too.
"Yeah?"
"I will try to persuade my superiors so that I may assist you when need be. I feel it is necessary. I feel that we can both benefit from each other. Sam as well."
I feel all hot and bothered, and I really wish you'd stop saying 'I feel'.
"Yeah. Sounds good," Dean mumbles. Dean can think of a few ways Cas can benefit from him…the angel has already changed so much just by being around the brothers for such a short amount of time. It's definitely a good thing, he agrees.
He kind of wishes that Cas would've pursued the earlier situation.
The rain is more persistent. It's not quite as peaceful as before for a multitude of reasons, most of which include Cas.
Dean can feel those powerful electric blue irises on him again. He forces himself to look out of the windshield, even though he knows the alluring azure is more pleasurable to look at than a bunch of cruddy doors, one of which houses Sam. His hand grips the handle of the door. He turns his head to Cas.
"Later, Cas."
Castiel nods once in response.
He hurries with the too familiar motions of closing the door of the impala, and dashes over to the room he knows they've rented, fumbling with the knob.
He takes a quick glance back to the passenger seat of the car, not too surprised that Cas is gone. He feels a bit of relief being released from those eyes, from Cas's presence in general.
He also feels a scintilla of disappointment.
