And our hearts unfold

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

Pairing: Dean/Cas

"Nothing that moves on land or sea has seemed so beautiful to me,"—Equestrienne by Natalie Merchant

-II-

Dean is not a liar, but he is a good at denying things. A thick head and thick skin, he walks through his life thinking that there is nothing that will ever get to him and maybe it would have been true, maybe, if not for the idiot feather brain in the rumpled trench coat. No, an angel of the Lord hell-bent on shaking Dean up, Castiel is not like the others, who are so easy to ignore, so easy to use, or dismiss.

But Castiel—Cas-sets his teeth on edge over and over again, makes something inside of his race wild and too hot every time he doesn't understand a reference or, of course, does the head tilt thing. The head tilt and blue eye combo will be the death of Dean someday, of that he is sure.

It doesn't help that Cas tends to stare at him all the time and, like a fool, he stares right back. Into those fathomless depths which house secrets a puny human brain could not even begin to comprehend, an ancient color that transcends the human blue irises reflecting back at him.

Sometimes, in moments where the power and pressure of that gaze, all-seeing and endless, bores into him, Dean thinks that he can see fate, his fate, Sam's fate, the world's fate. He thinks he can see everything he could ever hope for, all the good things left to him and Sam and all the greatness the world has yet to lose.

When he is losing himself in those eyes, he does not see Castiel as he presents himself, a thing of flesh and blood wearing Jimmy Novak's face, but the thing—the being—hidden beneath the façade, the heavenly creature who knows all of Dean, a concept that is both terrifying and like now, staring at each other in the darkened parking lot of the motel, thrilling, so thrilling.

Staring has always been enough for Dean; he doesn't want anything more and Cas can't give it to him anyway, even though Dean doesn't quite know what it is Cas can't give him, or what it is he even wants.

(Except he does know, he does, all the cells in his body screaming rebelliously for just a touch. Denial is a demon, the devil, and it is burning him slowly.)

There is something different about now, this moment, then the thousands of others that have occurred. Dean is alone, Sam in the motel room probably researching like the nerd he is, and Cas had been waiting for him, one with the shadows and air until the impala had pulled up. But now he's stepping closer, stepping up into Dean's personal space like always, easy as breathing.

And Dean doesn't mind when he should, he always has before and he should mind now. What's different about now?

The warmth of the angel's body seeps through the air between them and Dean is breathless, something like fear trying to claw its way up his throat, something like hope trying to overcome it.

Within it all, this broad abyss inside of him, he could only whisper, "Cas—"like something holy, something greater than God. And the angel listened, and those perpetually chapped lips were on his and no, no, it's wrong except that it's so completely right. Maybe everything had been leading up to this, those nameless looks that actually had names, and the eyes that actually held something other than heaven.

And yeah, it was happening anticlimactically, in a motel parking lot of all places but Dean just held Cas, whose lips were whispering prayers against his own, closer and closer and thought that it could not get any more perfect.

And the stars spin above and the earth moves below.

-II-

Thanks for reading! :) if you couldnt tell by now all the stories are based on a lyric from a song I have, and I use shuffle so they're...random to say the least!