Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel
Ship: Destiel
Prompt #1 – "Counting Stars"
A hunter afraid to fly and an angel afraid to fall sat side by side on the hood of a black '67 Impala. Dean Winchester took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey he'd brought with them and lifted his gaze to the expanse of heavenly bodies blinking back at him in the dark sky overhead.
"Sammy-he used to think those were angels," says Dean gruffly. "When we were kids. He told me all the names and then some." The angel glances at him and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat.
"My Father calls them each by name. I know them all as well," Castiel remarks matter-of-factly. Dean snickers behind a hand, stopping only when Cas turns to him with an offput look and confused furrowed brow. "Did I say something humorous?"
"Nah, I just—well, you angels know everything about everything. That kindof doesn't count, man," Dean offers by way of explanation. This only confuses the angel more so.
"We are beings of infinite intelligence, but I was not created with an innate knowledge of everything in existence," Cas says in response. He continues, "I did not have many ways to murder time, as you call it, in the early days."
"Killing time, Cas. It's killing time," Dean mumbles, shaking his head.
"To kill is synonymous with to murder. I don't understand tha—"
"It's a metaphor. A way of…" he waves his hand vaguely in the air, "using up any spare time one has." The angel sits there in silence, processing his explanation, and Dean can almost see the wheels turning behind the impossible blue of the angel's eyes. "Cas, how else did you pass the time? Must have gotten lonely up there."
"I learned their names, the way they moved in the heavens. That one there," Cas reaches out and points to a boxish patch of stars. "That is the Hunter, Orion. He was forever engaged in battle with…" The angel goes on to regale Dean with the complicated Greek myths people wove to explain the sky, and for some time, the hunter only leans back on the Impala and watches how excited Castiel gets over the stories. There's a gleam in those blue eyes, and his lips curve in a faint smile as he uses his hands to gesture the battle between Orion and what was it? Some sort of crustacean. "…the crab Cancer snapping at his feet with huge pincers." Cas pins his arms together like pincers and snaps them together as he speaks, chattering on about the two constellations without looking back to see if Dean was even listening.
He was, of course. In spite of himself, there was a smile on his normally stoic features. That's when Cas turns, one dark brow arched out of curiosity when he expects some sort of response from Dean. "Dean?"
There's something about the way the angel's gruff voice forms his name and the simplicity of the question within it. Warmth rises in his face, and Dean isn't sure if it's an embarrassed flush or something else entirely. "Sorry, what?"
"You are blushing, Dean," the angel comments, tilting his head to one side. Dean wants nothing more in that moment than to capture the trench coated angel in an embrace, to rest his own chin on Cas' shoulder as the angel babbles what could be astronomical mumbo jumbo to the Winchester's ears.
"S'cold, that's all," Dean grunts and shakes his head dismissively. There's a soft rustle to his left, and when he looks up again, he sees Castiel shrugging out of his coat. Cas leans closer to him, his shoulder brushing Dean's as he drapes the coat over the hunter's shoulder. Warmth still clings to the khaki material, and Dean was right—it is a bit chilly this evening, and he's welcome for the warmth.