It has been two weeks since Castiel stopped eating when he finally comprehends that he's going to have to change his tactics. After passing out a couple more times, thankfully in his bedroom where he wasn't seen, Castiel realises that he will have to eat something each day otherwise Sam and Dean will realise what's going on and will force him to eat. The thought of that brings tears to his eyes as he finds himself curled up in a ball on the floor, whimpering and biting his lip hard enough to bleed as he clutches his stomach, trying to push away the feeling of terror and desperation and a hunger so visceral it's like someone has filled his insides with shards of glass and they are slicing and tearing into his inner organs. He knows he's harming himself by not eating, although what with his new found uselessness as a human and the terrible ache in his chest whenever he's in a room with Dean (something he's started to avoid), Cas finds himself hard pressed to care about hurting his body; he's more concerned about preventing Dean and Sam from realising what he's doing to himself, scared of their inevitable disappointment at his inability to cope with his humanity. He's pretty sure that the Winchesters suspect something is wrong as Sam has started coming to his bedroom more often, trying to lure him out with promises of good films to watch and food that Dean has prepared ('You should try his honey-glazed steak, Cas! It's really good,') but Castiel always shakes his head and burrows further into his work, trying to ignore the concerned twist to Sam's lips as he watches the former angel retreat into himself. Dean's visits are less frequent and even more unwelcome; Cas hates the rush of feeling he gets when he sees the freckles dusted across Dean's face or the way his green eyes look so disenchanted whenever Cas looks at him. Cas knows he's a disappointment to Dean, he doesn't need the constant reminder.
Now that Cas is human, and Jimmy has been gone for so long, Cas had had to accept that this body, this appearance that Dean and the rest of the world sees, really is him. Jimmy was fairly lithe and athletic in stature and shape when Castiel first took possession of him, and he had kept his hair neat and tidy and maintained a tan. Carefully unfurling himself and climbing gingerly to his feet, Cas staggers into the bathroom and turns on the harsh overhead light. Looking at himself in the mirror, Cas can clearly see the toll he has taken on this, on his body. His hair is a rumpled mess, like he's been running his hands through his hair like Sam does, and is in desperate need of a wash. His skin is pale and sallow with heavy bruise-like shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look hollow, almost gaunt, like the skin pulled taught across his cheekbones could split any moment and peel away from his skull. Even his eyes, which were a brighter and clearer blue than Jimmy's, one of the few physical changes that occur when an angel possesses its host, looked muted, grey and tired.
Lifting the hem of his t shirt (one of Dean's old ones, soft with age), Castiel finds that his stomach is concave with sharply jutting hip bones poking out and he can count the ribs beneath his skin. What little stomach fat Jimmy had before is all but gone now. He runs his fingers across the taut skin and shivers, goosebumps rising where his fingers have been. The flesh between his legs gives an interested twitch but he ignores it; pleasuring himself is something Cas hasn't been able to attempt yet, too scared he'll get caught or he'll do it wrong or any other number of things that make it not worth it. Besides, the ache down there grounds him in the same way the hunger pangs do, like a reminder that he is not worthy of such pleasures now that he's so inadequate. He'd been a worthless, destructive angel, causing devastation and pain wherever he meant, no matter what he tried to do or who he tried to save, but at least the Winchester's had found him useful.
Cas shakes his head, puts on an oversized black shirt (one of Sam's he thinks as the huge swath of cloth swamps him) and prepares his 'I'm fine' face before heading out to the bunker's kitchen where Sam is drinking coffee and Dean is cooking bacon and eggs, humming what sounds like AC/DC to himself as he works (Cas had become familiar with some of Dean's favourite bands due to his time in the Impala and his own need to understand all he can about Dean). While Castiel is somewhat nauseated by the smell of the food, he can't help but feel a warm swell of love in his chest at the sight of the hunter, barefoot and happy, busying himself with simple domesticities like cooking breakfast.
'Hey, Cas!' Dean said and smiled enthusiastically as Cas wandered into the kitchen. Sam looked up from his coffee mug and also said hello, looking pleased that Cas had appeared. He had no idea why they would be pleased but it was nice anyway. Tentatively, he walked over to the table and sat opposite Sam, trying to calm the churning fear in his stomach, compounded when Dean pulled out a third plate that he assumed was for him. Bacon and eggs?! No, Cas thought, shaking his head to himself without thinking, no, I don't want it, please no, Dean…
'Cas? Hey, Cas!' Sam had his right hand on Cas's left shoulder and was squeezing hard enough to hurt a little, snapping Cas out of his anxious daze as Dean came over, spatula in hand, and squatted down in front of him, fear and sadness in his golden green eyes. Cas tried to plaster on a smile but it felt wrong and unsettling on his face and caused the Winchesters to glance at each other for a moment.
'Sorry, I got lost in my head. My apologies,' he said and fiddled with a spoon that was resting on the table in front of him. The silence soon turned awkward and he looked up to see Sam and Dean silently communicating in the way they did so well and Cas felt another pang of regret and self-loathing. Sam was pulling a bitch face at Dean and turning his head at an odd angle, like he was trying to throw his hair at Cas. Dean had that wide-eyed frown and was minutely shaking his head back at Sam. Castiel wasn't sure what any of that meant so he looked back down at his spoon and tried to control the blush that was creeping onto his face and the yawning pit in his stomach.
'You know, I'm not all that hungry yet. Dean, why don't you sit here while I go… do things,' Sam said as he stood up and swung his long legs over the bench seat, smiling warmly at Cas then widening his eyes at Dean before leaving the room. Castiel heard a quiet 'Sonofabitch,' under Dean's breath as he moved to take his brother's place at the table, spatula still clasped in his hand.
This he recognised; Dean was going to have a 'talk' with him, a serious one that would involve emotions and awkwardness and, most frightening, the revelation of truth, none of which Castiel wanted or was remotely prepared for.
'I should go; there are more items from the Mesoamerican era that need cataloguing including a summoning mask that the Aztecs used to wear during their-'
'Cas, come on, talk to me.' Dean cut in, his tone reminding Cas of his broken confession years ago about why he wouldn't return to Heaven, how he couldn't face what he had done. Even with his human mind, Cas remembers that moment like it had happened the day before; how soft and sad Dean's eyes were when he heard Castiel's confession and how Sam had entered the room just at the atmosphere between them had become charged; Dean's heart beat and body temperature had shot up suddenly while Cas suddenly felt as though his chest was inflating and clenching at the same time and how disappointed Dean had looked when Cas jumped up and went to speak with Sam, even though he did it because he was scared he would do something impulsive and foolish like kiss Dean or tell him he loved him. That was the first time he ever let himself wonder if Dean could possibly, even subconsciously, return his own desires.
Looking at Dean now, feeling his eyes drift to the other man's full pink lips, wondering what it would be like to press his own against them and taste Dean's mouth, Castiel felt his eyes blur as the pang of want throbbed through his aching body, desperately sad and terribly alone.
'Cas, hey, what's wrong?' Dean reached out to clasp a hand around Castiel's wrist and managed to grab hold of him before Cas could dodge out of the way. The puzzled look that crossed Dean's face as he turned to look at his hand, easily wrapping all the way around Castiel's bony wrist made Cas want to run the other way.
Oh shit.