Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel Novak took in a deep breath as he stretched his wings out to fly.

These wings had been his constant companions ever since he could remember. They had sprouted from his back when he was just a few months old, growing out from a clump of small, greyish goose-like feathers between his scapulas and backbones to the size they were today.

Now, they were enormous; jet black in colour, with tiny flecks of midnight blue mixed into the tips of the individual feathers. They were powerful additions to his body, these wings, as they allowed a guy of his stature to soar across the sky. The world, however, was full of prejudiced beings who would not accept him with them, so Castiel kept them hidden during the day and only let them stretch out during the late hours of the dusk.

He was what his guardian and aunt, Naomi, had described as being somewhat of a 'demonic piece of shit' due to his (not so straight) sexuality. Castiel, however, wasn't demonic at all. The whole town of Lawrence, Kansas knew his alter ego as the exact opposite.

This black haired, blue eyed, nineteen year-old had a secret, one that he let no soul in on. He was the superhero/vigilante known as the Angel, who saved his city from all sorts of problems, be it bank robberies, cats stuck in trees, or bloodthirsty hellhound invasions (long story). This job took up most of his nights ever since he began to use his powers to help people a year ago.

He had left his dorm through the window just a few minutes ago and had climbed the fire escape up to the roof, where he changed into his costume. He was currently perched on the edge, eyes seeking the cause of a police siren he had heard. Looking around for the source, he let his mind wander to thoughts about his roommate, Dean Winchester, who had been missing from the dorm as he usually was.

In fact, Cas hadn't even met Dean properly. The guy was a mystery, silently entering their shared space in the early hours of dawn. He was usually so late that even Cas, who had made it a habit to stay up till 4 am, was often fast asleep when he came in, and he often woke Dean up during the ruckus of leaving for his morning lectures. All he had learned about the guy was that he often spoke to a 'Bobby' on the phone, information passing between them in hushed tones in the early hours of dawn, sometimes stirring Cas from his sleep. The two hadn't got to talking much, as they got marked down as roommates only a couple weeks ago, but from what Cas could tell, he seemed like a decent enough guy.

Cas began fiddling with his phone, his body going on autopilot as he scanned the news for any alerts about the cause of the sirens. His mind went right back to Dean and his unfairly good looks. His chiseled cheekbones could rival those of a Greek God and his blondish-brown hair was often gelled back into a manageable shape. However, these gorgeous features didn't even hold a candle to Dean's eyes. They were easily the most beautiful thing adorning his face. As Cas’ best friend, Charlie Bradbury, would say, Dean had an eye color that could only be described as a mix between the vibrant emerald and enchanting peridot stones, encircled by the hue that emanates from leaves during the darkest hours of dusk, speckled with light flakes of the blue tint that oceans take on during the oncoming of a tsunami. Needless to say, she was the better writer of the two of them, owing to her significant experience in writing fanfiction of her favourite characters during her free time.

He and Charlie had met in high school, where they bonded over their lack of other friends and their shared love for pop culture, even if Cas didn't always understand her nuanced references. Their friendship was strengthened even further when Charlie came out to Cas as a lesbian, and later helped him realise his own identity as a gay asexual guy.

Speaking of gay, Cas had a huge crush on Dean since the moment he had laid his eyes on him. This, unfortunately, wasn't uncommon knowledge, as most of Cas’ friends knew because he wasn't very discreet, constantly staring at his roommate from across the class, leading to Charlie hassling him to ask Dean out already. Cas wasn't planning to follow up on her request anytime soon, as he wanted to get to know the guy first, so he just teased Charlie right back about her obvious crush on one of their classmates, Jo Harvelle. That got her face to turn the same shade of red as her hair, and she promptly stopped teasing him.

A car honked as it passed by the street below him, breaking Cas out of his stupor. He stood up, sliding his mask onto his face. It was a simple piece of white spandex, with two holes in the front for his eyes, covered by glossy dark blue lenses. Cas had installed a voice modulator into his mask which slightly increased the pitch of his voice, making him sound different. The length of his suit was made up of the same white material, the sides a deep blue. Two small openings at the back gave his wings room to move easily.

Refreshing his news app again, Cas finally found the cause of the sirens: someone was robbing one of Lawrence's biggest banks. He pocketed the phone, stretched his wings and flew towards the bank that was just a few blocks away, spying a perimeter secured around the area by the Lawrence City PD from the air. He tucked his wings in, dove down to the police line and spread them out again to land softly.

As he looked around to scope out the building, his ears perked up at the familiar sound of Sheriff Mills' voice. She was one of few authority figures who was friendly with his alter ego, unlike famous news reporter Naomi Engel, his beloved aunt. She made it a point to always defile the Angel's name, not realising that he was one and the same as Cas, her nephew who rebelled so hard, he had irreparably fallen in her eyes. She conveniently ignored the drastic improvement in the efficiency of the Kansas City Police Department since he had begun helping them. To her, Angel was nothing more than a menace that needed to be persecuted, and she'd made her opinions very clearly known to the whole city.

It didn't bother Cas in the least, but it tarnished his public image. Cas, a firm believer of the phrase "Karma's a bitch", was waiting for the day her high pedestal was snatched from under her and she'd go tumbling straight down to hell.

Snapping out of the pleasant daydream of his aunt's downfall, he turned his attention to Mills. "What’s happening, Sheriff?," he asked. "Anything I can do to help?"

"There's an armed robbery going on in the bank. We're not sure, but we think that it may be either the Demon or Diablo doing this," replied the Deputy. “We need to remove all hostages from the situation before we enter the bank to capture the thief.”

Cas groaned in annoyance at the mention of the Demon. He was an unstoppable, sticky-fingered cockroach. The Demon was his rival, a fact further cemented by the media when they named him the 'Demon' as an opposite to 'Angel'. The guy exclusively stole from the rich, like some kind of half-assed Robin Hood, and flirted with Angel nonstop since their very first encounter. Despite the undivided attention Demon gave to his backside, Angel had taken many a hit to his body afflicted by his rival, which led to a severe hit to his pride as a hero too. He had popped up around the same time as Angel, thwarting him for almost a year now, and his primary source of income was the wealth of the well known businessman, Chuck Shurley.

Cas didn't exactly blame the guy for stealing from Chuck's banks, as he was kind of a jerk when it came to giving decent interest rates on invested money and approving loans (he had rejected Cas' application for a student loan 3 times already), and a surprisingly deadbeat dad too (he had acquired this information from his classmate and friend, Gabriel Shurley), but he didn't quite get the obsession with Chuck, specifically. Chuck wasn't the richest or most malevolent of bankers, as he had almost gone bankrupt on multiple occasions due to his passion for self-publishing his awfully written book series, 'Supernatural'.

Castiel just wished that the Demon would go back to whatever hole he crawled out of, so that he could patrol the city in peace and get his 8 hours of sleep in, without worrying about getting wayward compliments about his ass, or stray knives flying at his face.

He would gladly take the Demon over Diablo, however. While the Demon was a thief, he made sure to never actually kill anyone or cause too much harm to Angel. His preferred way to pull off heists was to swiftly enter a space, incapacitate the guards, steal whatever he was after, and get out.

Diablo on the other hand excelled at killing people who crossed him. Castiel had once come across the body of a gang member who had publicly mocked Diablo, and he'd been riddled with gruesome images of the man's unnaturally angled torso and his missing tongue for weeks after. His autopsy had revealed that the tongue had been cut out before he died, leading news channels to dub the killer Diablo, as an ode to how the Devil tortured souls in hell.

As much as the Demon annoyed him, the guy seemed to live by a code. He had never killed anyone, no matter how badly he got cornered, so Cas found himself hoping that it was just the Demon there. This was probably below Diablo's pay grade anyways.

He scoured the bank for an entry point, picking the ornate glass window at the top. He flew up to it and braced himself before using his elbow to smash the glass. Folding his wings, he softly lowered himself onto the foyer of the top floor. Avoiding the glass shards on the floor, he tiptoed to the edge of the staircase, hoping his entrance hadn't been loud enough for anyone to hear.

He peered over the edge of the stairs, hoping to see where the hostages were being held, when he heard a soft creak come from right behind him.

He whipped around to find himself staring directly into the pitch black lenses of the Demon. His eyes darted to the right just in time to see a flash of silver- "Why is it always a knife", he thought ruefully, as it hurtled towards his right shoulder. He swiftly dodged to the left and swept his legs out, hoping to lock the other off-balance. The Demon jumped to avoid the swipe and landed firm on his feet, and pulled a new knife out of his boot.

"Never took you as a breaking and entering kinda guy, Angel." His tone gave away some of the humour he felt at the situation, but his voice crackled, distorted by the modulator he had in his suit, just like Cas'.

"Technically, it's not breaking and entering as I got permission from Sheriff Mills," frowned Angel, following which he aimed a swift kick at the Demon's solar plexus, who reared back, winded.

"You're no fun when you fight seriously, you know that?" the Demon breathed out. He straightened, a glint in his eye as he feigned a left hook, switching to an uppercut last minute, which caught Cas directly on the bottom of the jaw. Wincing at the pain, he aimed a kick at the Demon's right hand, which held the jagged knife, missing his mark by inches as the Demon dodged away.

He surged forward again, faster than before, right hand extended toward Cas' thigh. An attempt at a sidestep proved to be futile as the knife hit its mark perfectly. Clutching his now bleeding leg in pain, Cas unfurled his wings and kicked off the ground with his good foot, flying backwards into the railing, which fell to the ground floor. Cas hovered in midair, hoping to gain better control of the situation, when he heard a bunch of far off screams. His head jerked down to see that the fallen railing had alarmed a group of hostages next to the grand staircase on the ground floor. The Demon must have rounded them up before, and they were huddled together, terrified.

Angel's eyes shot back up as he heard a shallow breath, followed by a "Bye, sweetheart, hope to see that fine ass again soon," and he could have sworn that he heard the Demon winking from behind his wide lenses. He watched, stunned at the nickname and the reference to his ass (AGAIN?), trying to figure out whether he should go after the Demon or calm the hostages, when the Demon lunged toward a large bag that presumably contained the cash he stole (how had Cas missed that?), straightened up and jumped out of the window. His silhouette disappeared from view in just a few seconds, fading into the distance as he always seemed to do.

Cas came back to himself as the blood seeping from around the knife in his thigh, which had been trickling down his leg, finally fell off and splattered onto the floor, at least 40 feet below him. He flew down, reassured the hostages huddled near the stairs that they were safe, before opening the doors to the bank to finally let them out.

As he walked out to update Jody about the situation, he felt the adrenaline rush from the fight slowly begin to wear off, making him more aware of the pain in his thigh. The sheriff, despite his arguing that no, he was 'just fine, thank you', she sent him over to one of the paramedics on standby, Kevin. He greeted Cas, carefully got the knife out, patched up the wound, and gave him a gold star-shaped sticker and a warning not to get stabbed again in the future. He handed Angel the knife 'as a keepsake, man, it's not everyday you get stabbed by your rival,' and as he took flight to go back home, his mind drifted between thoughts of pitch black lenses and how much detergent it was going to take to get the blood off his suit.

He reached his dorm at 3 am, changed, and lay on his bed, ruminating that 'tomorrow is gonna be a long, long day.'

Chapter Text

Cas stifled a yawn as he tried to sneakily check how much time was left before his last class of the day, History, got over. The slow drawl of his teacher, Professor Uriel, was to Cas what a Siren's voice was to a sailor, egging his naïve mind on to take on a perilous venture into an unknown land (the land of sleep, in this case).

The overcrowded classroom was uncomfortably humid, owing to the broken AC and Castiel’s close proximity to 50 other teenagers. His skin felt like it was melting off, like an ice cream under the sweltering sun, and beads of sweat clung to his eyelashes for dear life. While everyone was suffering, Cas had it way worse than the others. They had discarded all the top layers of their clothes, while he was forced to keep wearing his beige oversized trench coat, as it was concealing his tightly folded wings from their eyes.

Cas wished, not for the first time, that Charlie was here with him, but her schedule was very different from Castiel's due to them having different majors. His gaze idly wandered across the board, brain not comprehending what the professor was teaching, and it finally settled on Dean, who was sitting next to him, absentmindedly clicking his pen, looking like the lead actor in a romcom. His unfairly attractive roommate had, as usual, arrived to class fifteen minutes into the lecture, with an air of indifference.

Professor Uriel looked really annoyed at having his precious presentation disrupted, so he made Dean sit next to Cas on the first bench, in the hopes that his well-behaved desk-mate would have a good influence on him. Dean, for his part, just rolled his eyes and sauntered towards the seat, taking his own sweet time to get there. He sat down and loudly started removing his books and pens from his bag. The professor had grumbled in annoyance, but then resumed the lecture.

Cas yawned once again, feeling his stomach churn unpleasantly at the heat, the breakfast of champions he downed in the cafeteria that morning threatening to claw its way back up his . He glanced sideways to see Dean looking at him with an odd expression. He squinted his eyes back in question.

"Why are you wearing that monstrosity in this heat, Cas?" Dean pondered, tone light but inquisitive.

"This class is the monstrosity, Dean," Cas grumbled, slamming his head on his desk weakly. "The last 5 minutes have felt like an hour."

"Just 2 more hours to go, then," replied Dean, his lips twitching at an attempt to stave off a smile.

"Don't joke about that," protested Cas, "We're gonna die here. Our bodies will rot and disintegrate, much like that man's."

He jerked his head in the direction of the presentation, demonstrating the effects of the unsuccessful embalming of some historical figure Cas couldn't be bothered to remember the name of.

"Dude, there's no way I'd look like that even if my body completely disintegrated."

Cas tilted his head and stared at Dean, pondering upon his words, before shooting back, "I wouldn't be too sure about that. Sometimes when you come back to the dorm late at night, you strongly resemble that man when the light from the window hits you at an unflattering angle."

Dean gasped in mock offense, clutching his hand to his chest, and said, "How dare you, Cas? Chicks and dudes dig this, despite any unflattering lighting." He gestured towards his face to emphasize his point.

Cas' lips twitched in amusement, and he opted to simply roll his eyes in response to Dean's words. How could Cas refute Dean's point when he was one of the guys in question?

As their conversation dwindled down, the heat made itself known again. He was feeling more tired by the second, not helped by the constant throbbing in his thigh from his day-old stab wound. Right as his eyes began drooping shut, he was rudely awoken from his stupor by a sharp voice exclaiming, "Mr. Novak!"

Castiel's head snapped up as he hurriedly stood, ignoring the pain that shot up through his leg, blinking the weariness out of his eyes. He glanced sheepishly at the teacher, trying to figure out why he was called upon.

"According to the New Englanders, how does one kill a vampire, Mr. Novak?"

Castiel had no idea when the topic changed from embalming to vampires, but he began wracking his brain for a suitable answer, but no answer was presenting itself. The professor looked smug at Cas' inability to answer, probably hoping to make an example of him to ensure nobody dozed off in his class, when Cas felt a sudden tap on his hand from Dean's pen. He glanced down to see the words "Behead and burn" scrawled out on his notebook page.

His eyes snapped back up as the professor asked, "The answer, Mr. Novak?"

"By beheading them and then burning their remains?"

"That is… correct," professor Uriel frowned, clearly disappointed he couldn't humiliate Cas. "You may sit down."

Wincing at the pull on his thigh's stitches as he sat down, Cas turned to Dean and shot him a grateful smile.

"Thanks," he wrote on the notebook, under Dean's writing. Dean smiled at Cas' message, and wrote, "np," followed by a small drawing of a winky face on the page.

The bell rang a few minutes later, and all the students scrambled to pack up their belongings and leave the sweltering heat of the classroom as fast as possible. Cas and Dean near the door for a few minutes, waiting for the crowd to thin out a little.

Dean started, ”Dude, I cant believe Uriel. You're literally the model student of our class, I can’t believe he was trying to get on your case for catching a bit of shuteye.”

“It’s fine, really. I really shouldn't be dozing off in class anyways,” replied Cas. “Thanks for helping me out back there, by the way. How did you know about how vampires should be killed? You weren't listening to the lecture any more than I was.”

“It’s a funny story, really. My adoptive father, Bobby, is obsessed with old folklore. He taught me everything there is to know about vampires, werewolves, djinns, you name it. The guy’s a bit of a loon, but I love him anyway.”

Cas chuckled in reply, and Dean continued, “Were you okay back there, by the way? I don’t mean to pry, but you looked like crap. Do you need to see a doctor?”

Cas let out a snort at that. He definitely felt like crap. Sure, he could heal quicker than normal people, but that did not make the process any less excruciating. His thigh was still throbbing, and the intense heat did not help in the slightest.

"I'm fine, Dean, thank you for asking. I just don’t do very well in the heat,” Cas said.

"So, uh, you know Crowley, right? He’s about yay high,” Dean held up his hands to just a bit less than his own height, “kind of a diva, always acts up in class?” Cas nodded in response, recollecting Crowley as one of few people who had managed to bribe his way into getting permission to stay off campus.

Dean continued, “There’s a party at his place tonight, and I was wondering if you’d wanna go with me?”

"Sure, but I should warn you, if you ask me to dance there, I will step on your toes," Cas warned. “It'll be safer for everyone if I stick to a corner and mind my own business.”

"That's okay, I'll be your corner-dwelling buddy. I needed company for the party anyways, because if you haven't noticed already, I don't exactly have many friends here.”

"It's a date, then!"

And that was how Cas found himself getting ready for a party in the late evening.

If he was being honest, Cas would never have believed that he would agree to go to a party so easily. Dean could thank his good looks for it, as they did all the convincing for him. Here Cas was, putting a suit on above his blue shirt, below which his wings were tightly tucked, just to get to know his mysterious roommate better.

Cas didn’t fault himself for his obsession with the guy, though, as there was just something about him he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Dean felt so familiar to him; his charm and the jokes that rolled off his tongue so effortlessly settled into the back of Cas' mind, an itch to be scratched at a later time.

After fastening his tie into place and putting on his trench coat, Cas gave himself a once over in the mirror and exited the tiny joint bathroom that was in his dorm. He walked over to Dean, who had donned a black t-shirt under a layer of plaid, which was topped by a leather jacket.

"Do you ever wear less than 3 layers? I've never seen you without that trench coat."

Cas shrugged, slightly thrown off by the question.

"I get cold really easily, Dean."

“Still, we can't have you going to a party looking like a tax accountant. Let's fix some of this.” Dean leaned over and loosened Cas’ tie, before taking it off and putting it to the side. He followed that up with opening up the top button of Cas' shirt, causing the latter's brain to short circuit at the contact.

"There, that's better. Let's go, we'll be late."

Castiel took a breath to calm his racing heart before following Dean out of the dorm.

After a short trip in Dean's sleek black '67 Chevy Impala, they reached Crowley's house, which was a grand, imposing structure that disrupted the skyline of the area. The pointed arches, stained glass windows, and the sheer verticality of the structure highlighted it's Gothic nature, making the place look like it was straight out of the 16th century.

As soon as Cas walked in the door, he could feel the party music pounding into his ears, and he just knew that being in the party for even a few more minutes would render him temporarily hard of hearing. Whichever direction he turned towards, he could only see sweaty, tired 20-something year olds whose bodies were closely pressed to each other, swaying and dancing. A whole bunch of them were clearly wasted, and they were tripping over themselves every minute or so. Cas cursed himself silently for his romantic choices, because without Dean, he wouldn't even be here, in a place so out of his comfort zone.

Dean's fingers snapping in front of his face brought Cas back from his internal monologue, and he had just begun to follow Dean to the dance floor when he was tackled into a hug by a mass of red hair.

"Hey, bitches," said Charlie, as she smiled at Dean and Cas as she held the latter at arm's length. Cas couldn't help the smile creeping up his face, knowing she was here. "Look who decided to show up! I would've stuck around to chat, but I see that you've found yourself a little date, Cassie, so I'll take your leave. Got a bunch of beauties waiting for me." Winking at Cas, she sauntered off to the side, heading in Jo Harvelle’s direction. After a moment of introduction, the two girls began dancing together.

"That your secret girlfriend, Cas?" asked Dean jokingly.

"No, Dean! That was Charlie, my best friend, and I do not like her like that. She's like a sister to me, and she's the gayest person I've seen, which is seriously saying something because I look in the mirror every day.”

"Ah. She seems to be hitting it off really well with Harvelle, huh?"

Cas looked in Charlie's direction and spotted his best friend laughing at something Jo said. The two leaned in, closing the gap between their lips, pulled apart after a moment and continued dancing together with wide grins on their faces.

"I believe she is. Good for her, she was heartbroken after Dorothy Baum left town and they broke up. I was hoping that she'd get to know someone at this party."

"Hmm, just make sure you tell her not to hurt Jo, or I'll have to hunt her down and kick her ass. Jo's my cousin, and I will not let her get hurt."

"Wait, Jo Harvelle is your cousin?"

"Yeah, and a pretty awesome one at that. If she hadn't stuck up for me when I told my dad that I was bi, I'd probably not be standing here right now."

"Seems like I'm learning all sorts of things about you today, Dean Winchester," said Cas. The thought of him having even a small chance with Dean made his heart soar, and he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

"Enough with the chick-flick moments, do you wanna go and dance, Cas?" asked Dean, his eyes darting around, looking for an empty spot on the dance floor.

"Only if we get to be fellow corner-dwellers after," grinned Cas.

"Done," replied Dean, grinning back.

Dean then led Cas to the dance floor, and they began swaying to the loud party music. Cas felt a little odd dancing at first, but he slowly got into the spirit (figuratively and literally, as someone had definitely spiked the punch) and started dancing as enthusiastically as everyone else. He only elbowed Dean in the cheek once, and after a hiss of pain and many protests of, "I'm fine, Cas, the pain will wear off in no time,” did Cas deem Dean fit enough to live after the accident.

The dancing lasted for a while, and was followed by Dean and Cas drinking more punch and people watching from the sides. By the time the party was over, Cas was exhausted and wasted from the alcohol, and the world was spinning around him. He was absolutely certain that it had tilted completely sideways once too, with a sideways Dean entering his vision and making the world stand up normally again.

When Dean suggested that they should leave, Cas heartily agreed. He scanned the crowd for Charlie, wanting to say goodbye but unable to spot her, and let Dean lead him out of the noisy house and onto the relatively quieter street, the muffled sound of music still not leaving his ringing ears.

He turned towards Dean to say something, but his words were forgotten as he laughed at the sight before him. Dean had gone cross eyed trying to look at the top of his nose, where a tiny raindrop sat among the vast number of Dean's freckles.

"You got a little something on your nose, Dee," slurred Castiel, as he swiped the raindrop away with a hearty laugh. He caught Dean looking at his eyes, and he tilted his head (or did the world tilt for him?) and stared right back with curiosity.

How did Dean have such beautiful eyes? They were the colour of the trees in a forest when the sunlight hit them in the morning, and the shade of a beautiful emerald, glinting from its position on the hilt of a sword. They were the colour of the northern lights that shone during the night sky and vines that grew on a dilapidated castle. Castiel felt as if he was looking at colour for the very first time, and could simultaneously lose himself altogether and discover worlds unknown by simply looking into those two gorgeous eyes. Maybe he was just as good a writer as Charlie.

The single drop turned into a flurry of rainfall that descended upon them. In an attempt to shield Dean from the rain, Castiel pulled off his trench coat and placed it on top of Dean's head. He noticed a cute, fuzzy bee and expressed that he wanted to follow it, but Dean pulled him away, and began guiding him to his car. Not wanting to argue with his crush, Cas relented.

"They're beautiful creatures, Dean," smiled Cas, feeling a bit more sober after being drenched by the rainfall as he made his way to the car. “We should follow one tomorrow and find its hive.”

"Alright Cas, but I'm not letting you chase after him when you're wasted."

Dean fumbled around for the keys to his Impala, quickly entering as he unlocked the door, and Cas followed suit. The car was clean, warm and dry, unlike the two seated inside. Dean heaved a sigh of relief being out of the rain, and turned to look at Cas, who was already staring at him. Cas began giggling at the sight before him.

“What’s so funny?”

"You look like Charlie’s cat after he had his first bath," Cas choked out through tears of laughter. “He’s the same colour as your hair.” Dean pouted at him, but couldn't help his curiosity, and asked Cas to pull up a photo of said cat. Upon seeing an image of the offended creature after his bath, Dean couldn’t help but burst out laughing as well. The resemblance really was uncanny.

After a few calming breaths to reduce the laughter, Dean leaned over to Cas’ side of the car, causing the brunette's brain to short circuit, and strapped his seatbelt on. He proceeded to strap on his own seat belt before taking off for their dormitory.

On the way back, Cas, head leaning against the window, could only think of Dean's freckles and the mesmerizing way they patterned his face. He turned to Dean and began counting them, but lost count somewhere in the mid 100s when his exhaustion finally caught up to him and he fell asleep with his head against the headrest of the seat, a smile decorating his face and thoughts of Dean Winchester decorating his dreams.

Chapter Text

Cas sat on his bed in the dorm room, idly scrolling through Netflix, as he instructed Dean on the phone to “Please don’t forget the food at the restaurant like last time.” He was waiting for his roommate to get back from the small Chinese place a few blocks over that was quickly becoming their favourite, and boy, was he starving. His stomach rumbled at the thought of their xiao long baos, and if Dean didn’t get back soon enough, Cas would raid the common fridge on their floor for the packet of frozen broccoli Dean left there 2 weeks ago. And Cas hated broccoli almost as much as he hated his aunt.

Cas huffed and flopped onto his back, sighing at the rumbling in his stomach. He continued his search to decide on a film to watch, his designated task as the roommate that did not brave the snowstorm outside to get the food. Granted, Dean decided to collect the takeaway as he had some chores to finish up anyways, but Cas decided that this was the least he could do. After a lot of browsing, he decided on a nice high school romcom movie, called To All the Boys I Loved Before.

Just as he got up to set up his laptop, he heard the shuffling of footsteps outside his room, and the sound of someone shoving the key into the lock and twisting it. The door opened to reveal Dean, in all his bright eyed and bow-legged glory, clutching the bag of takeout in his left hand, keys in the right one, snow covering his shoulders and his hair.

"Glad to see the takeout made it here in one piece,” quipped Cas. “What happened to you, though? Did you walk through the blizzard?”

"I forgot my coat, man,” ruminated Dean, as he entered the dorm room. “Every time I got out of my baby I got snowed on.”

Cas hummed at the answer, and began helping Dean unpack the food so they could start eating soon. Once they were done, Cas brushed some of the snow off Dean's shoulder, and he quickly excused himself to change into warm clothes. He emerged from their shared bathroom just 2 minutes later, looking much happier now that he was dry and wearing a clean sweatshirt. He rubbed his hair with a towel, getting any leftover snow out of it. Cas allowed himself a few seconds to stare at the sight, before the rumbling of his stomach made him shift his eyes back to the food.

Cas started piling his plate with the food, did the same for Dean's, and dug in. Dean sat down next to him, and started eating as well. They began watching the rom com on Cas' laptop, and Dean got engrossed in the storyline. Cas enjoyed watching Dean's curious gaze wandering about the screen, eagerly waiting to know what new thing happened in Lara Jean’s complicated life. The dark blue of the rain outside contrasted beautifully with the soft orange glow on Dean's face, the light of the laptop reflected in his eyes.

Cas suddenly felt Dean's eyes flit toward him, and his eyebrows scrunched in question at his gaze. Cas got red in the face and muttered, “Just checking to see if you're liking the film.” Dean hummed back in response and turned to face the screen again. Cas are some more and avoided glancing at Dean again, to save his heart from hammering against his chest again.

His mental spiral about the loop de loop his heart performed every time Dean looked at him was cut short by a notification ringing from his phone. Cas quickly snatched up the welcome distraction, hoping that it wasn't something that required the Angel's help. He did not want to have to brave a blizzard to find someone's missing pigeon. He groaned when he saw that it wasn't a runaway avian. The Demon had hit up one of Chuck's banks yet again about an hour ago, but the news only just reported it because the place was shut due to the storm.

"Why does he keep doing this?," Cas muttered.

“Why does who do what?,” asked Dean, pausing mid bite.

“The Demon,” Cas started, turning his phone screen so Dean could look at it. “He keeps stealing money from Chuck Shurley's banks! I get that the man is a terrible writer, and his publishing house should stop producing more books, but stealing from him is still wrong.”

"His books are really, really bad, though. I'd steal from him too if it meant we'd never have to see another Supernatural novel being published again."

"Dean!"

"Fine, fine, stealing is wrong, but he's a terrible person too. He keeps declining loans to people in need, especially those who can't find a cosigner. He earns so much profit on people's money, and yet he's never used any of it for a good cause. The Demon will probably put that cash to better use than Chuck ever would've. Besides, he's just asking to get robbed with all that security he posts outside his banks."

"How is posting security guards- nevermind. Let's finish eating this, and once this movie is over, maybe we can watch the sequel."

"There's a sequel?!”

And that's how Cas and Dean ended up on Cas's bed, sitting just inches from one another, hands a hair away from brushing together. They were both looking at the sequel playing on the laptop screen, but Cas couldn't focus on the movie at all. His heart leaped at how close he was to Dean. His hand brushed against Dean’s once, and he looked up to see the other boy blushing just as furiously as he was. Cas’ other hand reached out to pause the movie, but missed as Dean turned to look at him directly. The two slowly leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as Cas’s lips brushed against Dean’s soft ones. He pulled away and opened his eyes to see the biggest, goofiest grin he had ever seen on Dean’s face and softly chuckled. The two went in for another kiss, and then a third, fourth, and fifth. They eventually had to pull away to get some air, both smiling and blushing, severely out of breath.

A soft smile played on Dean's face as they looked back at the screen, only to see that Lara Jean and Peter Kavinsky had initiated their kiss as well.

"So?"

"So."

"Cas?"

"Hm?"

"You don't have to answer this if you don't wanna, but are you bi too?"

"Dean, I'm-," Cas started, hesitating a bit at the possibility of Dean not knowing what asexuality was.

"Go on, Cas, I promise I won't judge if you're straight or something," Dean chuckled.

"Dean, I'm asexual."

"Oh, that's so cool! I've never met an asexual person before!"

"So you're not gonna ask me if I'm a plant or if I'm faking it?" Cas asked.

"Wait, people actually say that?"

"An embarrassingly high number of times, yes."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Cas," Dean started,"I was wondering if-"

"Dean?"

"Willyoubemyboyfriend? Itsokayifyoudontwanttobutiwashopingyoudsayyesbutnopressureifyoudontwannawecanstillremainfriendsand-"

"What was that, Dean? I didn't quite catch what you were saying," Cas teased.

"Oh, shut up," wailed Dean, as he hid his face in his hands. Sighing, he looked up at Cas and said,"I asked you if you wanted to be my boyfriend."

"I'd love that," smiled Cas.

"Really?!" asked Dean, wide eyes searching Cas’ face, looking for any hint of a lie or cruel joke there.

“Yes, Dean!” Cas gently took Dean’s hands in his own, and continued, “You're smart, and funny, and you brighten up my days by just being around. I'd love to be your boyfriend. Honestly, if you hadn't asked me, I would've asked you soon.”

“Thanks, Cas, that means a lot. I really like you too but I wasn't sure if you were into guys, until, you know, we kissed," said Dean with a small, but earnest chuckle.

"You're adorable, did you know that?" asked Cas, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, you know, I've only been told that about a million times,” replied Dean with a straight face. Cas laughed and playfully threw his pillow at Dean, who screeched and ducked away from it, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Needless to say, Cas slept with a smile on his face that night.

Chapter Text

“Earth to Castiel,” said Dean, snapping his fingers in front of Cas' face. Castiel blinked as he rose from his daydream. His eyes drifted upwards to see that he and Dean had reached the Roadhouse, a small diner owned by the latter's aunt Ellen, where he had insisted on their first date taking place.

“The burgers there are heavenly, Cas,” Dean had stressed, so here Cas was, going to a place he could only imagine would be dark, dingy and questionable at best.

The two boys got out of the car, their idle chatter wafting around the subtle chill that permeated the night. A bell jingled as they walked through the door and into the warm, inviting space. Cas was pleased to note that his reservations were for nothing; the place was small and homely, the bar area surrounded by cozy booths scattered along the walls and near the large windows, giving them a view of the road outside. The place was lit by orange wall sconces and the posters on the wall gave it a casual feel, which made it perfect for a first date.

He smiled and thanked the usher who led them to their booth, the one at the far corner, next to the windows. He took the seat with its back to the wall, facing Dean who smiled as he sat opposite Cas, and they began talking. They were soon greeted by Jo, who turned to size Castiel up.

“I gotta say, you are way out of my brother's league.”

Cas snorted, caught off-guard by her forwardness, as Dean threw a balled up tissue at her and murmured a “Shut up, Jo,” and ducked his face down, not being able to hide the flush of embarrassment worming its way up his cheeks.

“Don't mind me, Dean, I'm only teasing.” Turning to Cas, she winked and mock-whispered, “You can jump out of the bathroom window if you need to escape him, Castiel.”

Dean balled up more tissues and threw them at Jo, who took the attack in stride, apologising but unable to quell her laughter.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm down, she turned to her cousin and asked, “So, how are you settling in, Dean? Is uni treating you well?”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks to my wonderful roommate here,” said Dean, nudging Cas' foot with his own and sending a radiant smile in Cas’ direction.

“Ooh, someone has a crush,” said Jo, in a sing-song voice.

“We are literally on a date right now, Jo,” Cas interjected.

“I can't hear you over the sound of your wedding bells!”

Dean blushed once again and began chiding Jo.

“Stop doing that, dude. You'll chase him away.”

“You don't need my help in that department,” Jo retaliated, throwing a side eye towards Dean. Turning to Cas, she asked “Anyways, what would you boys like to have? Burgers, fries, milkshakes?”

Dean gave Jo their order of two house special cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes after a nod of approval from Cas. Jo threw a grin their way and took off towards the kitchen to give the order.

Dean and Cas continued their conversation for a while after that, talking about everything under the sun. They talked about their favorite things from their childhood, their hobbies, likes, and dislikes. The topic shifted to family once Cas mentioned that he was an only child, and asked if Dean had any siblings of his own.

“You've already met Jo, of course. She's technically my cousin, because her mom, Ellen, is married to my uncle slash foster dad, Bobby, but honestly I feel like she's my flesh and blood sister,” Dean said, with a soft look in his eyes, “I’ve also got Claire and Alex, my little cousins from my aunts Jody and Donna. They're not related to me, technically speaking, but I adore those kids anyways.”

“Wait, your aunt is Jody Mills? As in, Sheriff Jody Mills?”

“Yeah, you know her?”

“I've seen her in passing once or twice. I'm just surprised you have such a large family. You're an only child, then?”

Something shifted in Dean's eyes as he gruffly mentioned, “No, no. I do have a baby brother, Sammy. He's 4 years younger than me.” Dean's voice softened a bit as he continued, “Hell, I practically raised that kid. We became even closer since dad died. He's only in school now, but I'm sure that kid is going to make something great out of himself once he's older.”

Cas found it a bit strange that Dean waited so long to mention his brother, but decided not to push further about it, and steered the conversation away from that topic.

“I don't officially have any siblings, but I consider Charlie to be my sister. We've been best friends since we met each other in high school, and her parents took me in on her request after my aunt kicked me out when I was 17.”

“You gotta tell me more about that, man. I figured she was bad from the things you've mentioned about her, but I didn't think she was heartless enough to kick her own nephew onto the streets.”

“Oh, she's more than heartless enough to do that,” Cas dryly chucked, “but I fear that's a story for another time.”

Picking up on Cas' discomfort, Dean changed the topic and started ranting about the time he and Jo had reported some kids who were bullying Alex and Claire a few years prior, and Cas watched on with a smile, noting how sweet it was that Dean cared so much about his family.

Jo reappeared just then, effectively cutting Dean off mid-rant, as she produced their plates from behind her back with a flourish and placed them dramatically onto the table, followed by an exaggerated bow, getting a choked off laugh from Dean and a snort from Cas.

“Here's your order, boys. Call me if you need anything else,” Jo beamed at them after Dean let out a long suffering sigh, and she proceeded to make her way to another table to take their order.

Cas turned his attention to the food. He slowly took a bite out of the cheeseburger, and his eyes went wide. It was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.

Seems like Cas had fallen for cheeseburgers just as fast as he had fallen for Dean. “This is love at first sight, or-” Cas thought, “-love at first bite.”

After devouring their food, the two young men's topic of conversation shifted to their city's resident heroes and villains.

“The Demon is awesome at his job, Cas,” said Dean.

“I would argue that's hardly a job, especially since it involves stealing other people's money. How is that okay, Dean?,” replied an adamant Cas.

“Okay, okay, fine, it's not technically a job, but he's good at evading the police and has an eye for aesthetics, unlike our city's classic do-gooder! The Angel's outfit is an eyesore, who wears bright white clothes at night? Black is elegant and classy, and the green highlights add a nice pop of colour.”

“The Angel obviously wears white because he wants to be seen! I like to believe that people see a flash of white during the dangerous hours of the night and feel safe, knowing someone's watching over them. Also, the highlights on the Demon's costume definitely give away his location to the Angel because they’re the opposite of stealthy.”

“Okay, fair, but they make him look cool. The only thing cool about the Angel's look are those wings.”

Cas raised one eyebrow and leaned in, eager to hear Dean’s thoughts about the wings. Dean continued, “They're obviously mechanical, but I think someone else made them for him, because there's no way Mr. White Outfit would make them black of his own volition. I gotta admit though, they're cool as hell. They move so seamlessly, you'd almost think they sprouted from his back or something.”

Cas forced himself to nod along to Dean's words, suppressing a laugh. With an innocent expression, he asked, “Where do you think he stores them, Dean? The wings are incredibly wide, and they look heavy as well.”

“Well, he's gotta have some kind of folding mechanism in them, right?” Cas hummed in agreement. Dean definitely got that part right. The blond continued, “If that's not the case, he'd have to store them in some giant warehouse, because there's no way of walking around an apartment with those things fully open,” Dean chuckled.

“Fashion choices aside, Dean, you can't really hate the Angel, can you? Sure, his moves are conventional and he makes mistakes sometimes, but all he wants to do is help people and make a difference. The guy really doesn't need any more negativity, my aunt gives him enough crap every day.”

"Your aunt gives him…,” Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together, voice trailing off as he tried to come to a realisation. “What exactly does your aunt have to do with the Angel?”

Cas raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dean to make the connection.

“Wait a damn minute,” spluttered Dean, as his brain finally connected the dots. “The aunt that kicked you out is Naomi Engel, that nasty reporter?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, a scowl etched onto his face.

“I can't believe she raised you! You're so-”

“Normal? Yeah, I get that a lot, Dean. She was a great reference point growing up, as she showed me exactly what not to become. She’s a cruel reporter who was no better at being a parent. For someone who always wanted me to follow in her footsteps, she did a terrible job showing me any kind of love or affection. Honestly, I would've rather died than become like her.”

Castiel's mood soured, and his unhelpful brain started reminding him of his life back when he was her ward. He tried to remove those memories from his mind and focus. This was a date, not a therapy session, and he didn't want his aunt to ruin the peace he had felt just a few moments ago. Cas shook his head and tried to smile at Dean, but all that came out was a grimace. Dean frowned, worried about Cas, but he shrugged it off with an “I'll be fine.”

Cas excused himself to go to the bathroom, hoping to get his bearings there. He was splashing some water on his face when a muffled sound filtered in through the gap between the window and it's frame. The sound of a woman screaming, asking someone to let her go. Castiel’s heart sank; he had a very bad feeling about this, and he needed to check the noise out. He double checked the lock on his stall door and shed his trench coat to reveal his folded wings and Angel suit underneath. Taking a second to spread his wings and relieve some of the soreness in them, he quickly put on the spare mask and gloves that he carried in his pant pocket, and scrambled out of the bathroom window.

He couldn't help but find it amusing that he used Jo's escape route after all, even if not for the reason she thought he needed to. He landed in the alley, feet gracefully touching the ground. Turning around in the chilly air, he began scanning the area for the noise. He hated that his date was being interrupted, but this woman's safety was more important, and he hoped that his hunch was wrong and she was fine.

"Although," thought Cas, "when does stuff ever work out for me?"

He stretched his wings out and flew to the top of the building to have a better look at what was happening. He saw them near some garbage bins in the alley behind the next building.

He saw two figures, one of which was a red headed woman, somewhere in her early twenties, who was backing away from the other, a blonde haired man wearing baggy clothes. As she screamed again, trying to run past him and onto the main road, he grabbed her head and slammed it against the wall.

Wanting to catch the attacker off guard, he swooped down and landed behind the guy silently, his wings ready to strike the man. The guy must have heard him, though, as he turned and slashed on his right, clipping Angel's side and his wing with the edge of the blade. Hissing in pain, he dodged the man's slice at his leg by flying upwards and kicking him in the face. He landed back onto his feet and punched the guy on his stomach.

His eyes wandered to check on the woman for a second, which was proven a mistake as the attacker sliced at him again, this time opening a large gash underneath the first scratch.

Angel stumbled back, disoriented from the wound, and the man took his chance and punched him square on the jaw, and again in the stomach. Wheezing, he fell to the ground, curling up in pain. He dragged his eyes up, towards the woman, to check on her again.

The assaulter had pulled her to her feet and was holding his knife against her throat. A dark spot of blood matted her bright red hair, body trembling with shock, the bobbing of her throat making it go too close to the edge of the knife.

Cas had always disliked all kinds of criminals, but murderers and rapists were a special category of vile. And this man, who was definitely the latter, could also very much be the former. In that moment, the woman's terrified face looked too much like Charlie's, and he decided he could not lose this fight, no matter the cost.

"Let her go," he spat with more venom than he could have normally mustered. He glared daggers at the man and got to his feet, more steadily than he thought was possible. Adjusting his posture, he readied himself to launch himself at the assaulter, but stopped short as the man pulled the knife closer to the woman's throat. Cas scowled but slowly backed away, raising his left hand to placate the deranged man, right hand still gripping the wound which was slowly oosing blood.

“Don't move a muscle or she dies. I will take her and walk away from here, and you won't stop me. If you try to call the police on me, you know what'll happen.”

Cas nodded, his narrowed eyes not leaving the man's hand, which clutched the knife like a lifeline. How could he get that thing away from Charlie's, no, this woman's throat so he could fight the man while also keeping her safe? Both of them were locked in a stalemate, neither moving out of fear of the other doing something drastic.

Right then, Cas noticed a shadow creeping around the end of the alleyway, to the back of the attacker. They slowly tiptoed toward them, and the Angel hoped that whoever it was would help the woman. He sent a silent glance over to her, checking to see how she was holding up, and the scared but still defiant look in her eyes reassured him that she would make it out of this.

Just then, the person approaching the attacker made a sound as they stepped on a wayward soda can. To grab the attackers attention, Cas blurted out, “This is not what I had in mind when I decided to become a superhero."

"What?" The attacker looked confused, not having registered the sound behind him. Determined to keep it that way, Cas continued, “I thought I'd get to fight actual cool people, you know, not just lowly assholes like you. Frankly, I'm offended at how much of my time you've wasted already. I could be fighting much cooler villains, you know, like the Demon.”

“Shut up! How dare you insult me like this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw the shadow behind the man creep forward, a large round object in hand, out of the corner of his eye.

Ignoring the attacker's sad excuse at defending his pride, the Angel continued, “Also, we seriously need better laws on carrying weapons too. That's not even a kitchen knife, it's a straight-up dagger. God knows we don't need more people like you running around.”

“What the fuck are you on about-” His sentence was promptly cut off as the person behind him stepped out of the shadows and swung the round object, now evidently a dinner plate, that hit his head with a resounding crash, shattering into a million tiny pieces. The creep fell to the ground in a heap, unmoving.

The Angel let out the breath he was holding and muttered a “Thanks,” before his head slumped down in relief, shoulders relaxing now that the threat was gone.

“Care to repeat that for me, Angel?” an irritating but familiar voice cooed.

“You?!”

The Angel's eyes shot back up. Deep blue lenses met pitch black and he stared into the eyes of the Demon.

“Yeah, it's, uh, me,’’ said the Demon, looking rather un-sinister as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You're a bad guy,” said the Angel in a matter of fact voice.

“Yeah, look, I may be all about punching superheroes and robbing banks and stuff, but this was attempted sexual assault. I can't let that slide, even I have some morals. So, I came to help.”

“Wait, so what are you, some kind of lawful evil?”

The Demon chuckled awkwardly as he muttered, “I prefer chaotic neutral, but I guess you could say that as well, yeah.”

“Huh, I did not peg you for a D&D player. I guess you learn something new everyday.”

Turning to the woman, Angel asked, “Ma'am, are you okay? Can you remember your name?”

The woman, clearly concussed from the head injury, slowly nodded, eyes flitting across the unconscious form of the man, passed out in the remnants of the plate.

“Yeah, I can remember my name. It's Anna, Anna Milton.” Her body had stilled, shaking shoulders a bit more in control now, but the shock was still etched into her features.

“I can walk you home, if you'd like, Anna,” Angel offered. “You're safe now, I won't let anything happen to you.”

“Yeah, I–I’d like that,” she answered, her trembling breath releasing small puffs into the cold air.

Cas simply nodded, slowly making his way toward her.

Just then, the Demon offered, “I'll watch over this scumbag,” jutting his chin toward the heap on the floor, and continued, “He won't be going anywhere under my watch. We can decide what to do with him once you're back.”

Cas hummed his assent, and helped the woman out of the alley. She showed him the directions to her house, and they arrived there in 10 minutes.

Turning towards him, the red tint in her hair catching his eye under the streetlamp, she slowly exhaled.

“Thanks. I don't know what would've happened if you and that other man hadn't been there.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Really though, I mean it.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze, reminding him so much of Charlie.

She turned away with a soft smile, heading to her door, when Cas called out, “Anna, wait!”

Turning back, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as she waited for him to continue. Angel ran up to her and asked for her phone. Opening it, he quickly entered his number and handed it back to her.

“Call me if you ever need any help, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I will, thank you,” she replied, with a grateful smile on her face. Cas watched as she fumbled with her keys, opened the door to her house, and entered. He turned to leave only after hearing the resounding click of the lock.

Deciding to walk back, Angel got his phone out to call the police, but his heart dropped when he read his topmost notification.

It was a text from Dean, asking where he was. His date had texted Cas around 5 minutes after he had left for the bathroom, and it had been over an hour since then. His relationship was never going to recover from this.

He cursed his absent mind for forgetting about something so important, and dreading the angry response he would inevitably get, Cas dialled Dean's number with trembling fingers. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said breathlessly.

“Hello Dean,” Cas replied, guilt lacing his voice, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean was quiet, though, and this worried Cas even further.

They both started, “I'm really sorry!”

“What? Cas, what're you sorry about?”

“I left you in the diner and forgot to call you. Charlie called me up and there was this family emergency and I-”

Dean cut him off, “It's okay Cas, I had to take off too. Bobby needed me urgently for some work, so when you didn't come back from the bathroom, I went to help him with–”

Dean paused for a second, another man's voice filtering in from behind him. Dean swore under his breath, barely audible, and something blocked his phone's mic. A sound still managed to worm its way through, sounding like a scuffle, followed by something heavy falling down, and Dean was back.

“What's going on, Dean?”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said in a breezy tone. “Bobby needed my help to break open some beer bottle of his, but we dropped it on his carpet.”

Cas wasn't sure if he really believed that, but he decided not to investigate further. He had done enough to upset Dean today, and there was no need to start accusing him of lying. He continued, “Can we call this even? I'm really sorry I left.”

“Yeah, we're even. Thanks Cas, For what it's worth, I'm sorry I ditched you back.”

After hanging up, Cas breathed a sigh of relief at knowing that he had not abandoned his date. He went back to the alley to have a conversation with the Demon and check up on the creep, who, weirdly enough, was still knocked out cold. Maybe a dinner plate to the head did that to people. Cas wouldn't know.

“So.”

“So.”

“Why did you save that woman?”

“She had a knife to her throat and you were busy panicking, so,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was not panicking” huffed the Angel irritably, with air quotations on the last word. “I was figuring out the least dangerous strategy to get her out of that situation!”

“Excuses, excuses. No offense buddy, but you really need to learn how to fight. If I hadn't been there, this moron would've pummelled your ass, just like I've been doing since last year.”

“I'm not taking fighting advice from someone whose weapon of choice is a plate.”

“Ouch,” the Demon said, clutching his heart in mock offense. “I didn't exactly have time to prepare, okay? I grabbed the first breakable object I could get my hands on, and clearly, it did the job.”

“Excuses, excuses,” mimicked the Angel, earning a scowl from the Demon. He continued, “Where did all your precious knives go? Do you just carry them when you're planning on stabbing me?”

Looking bashful at the mention of the recent stabbing, the Demon tried changing the topic. “What's the matter with your voice, by the way? You don't usually sound this gravelly.”

The Angel's wings ruffled as he remembered his voice modulator too late, lying on its lonesome inside Cas' bedside drawer. Curse him for wanting to be on time for his first date with Dean.

“I, uh, have the flu,” he coughed out rather unconvincingly.

The Demon narrowed his eyes at him, evidently not buying Angel's poor attempt at covering his tracks. Yet, he offhandedly commented, “You should use your actual voice more. It sounds nice, and suits you way better than that artificial crap.”

Thrown off by the compliment, Cas tried to regain his bearings.

Unbothered by the effect of his words on Angel, the Demon asked, “What do we wanna do about this guy?” He then slightly nudged the creep with his boots, probably checking to see if he was still alive.

“I'm gonna call the cops on him.”

“Uh, buddy, did you forget I'm a wanted criminal? They'll arrest me before they even think about arresting him.”

“Even better,” teased the Angel, with an innocent looking tilt of his head.

“Oh, c'mon, man! I didn't even try to kill you this time.”

“And I hope that continues to be true, because I'm going to wait till you leave to call the police. Don't make me regret my decision,” he said, with a pointed look at the man clad in black.

With an approving nod of his head, the Demon did something that made Angel question if he was dreaming. “Truce?,” asked the former, holding up his pinky finger, and sue Cas, because that was kind of adorable.

“Truce,” he agreed, linking his pinky finger with the Demons, a soft smile hidden behind his mask. Maybe he didn't need to dislike the Demon that much after all. “How fast can you get away from here?”

“I can make it to my place in 15.”

“Alright, I'm calling them in 10.”

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” he said. The Demon winked at the Angel, did a two fingered salute, and started running off in the direction of the car park.

In hindsight, the Angel knew he probably shouldn't have let the Demon go, but he was really touched by how he stepped up to help Anna, so he begrudgingly waited for 10 minutes and called the cops. After he handed him off to Sheriff Mills, he decided to go back to the diner to retrieve his clothes.

He crawled into the bathroom through the window. He wadded up a lot of toilet paper and used it to staunch the blood still leaving his body, and changed into his civilian clothes. As he left the stall, he was horrified to find that someone had been waiting to go to the bathroom all this time, as the other stall had been occupied as well.

He urgently needed to switch the paper out for some gauze, and he desperately needed some sleep let his healing factor take care of all the other aches and pains on his body. He slowly walked back in the dorm's direction to use his first aid kit, turning the collar on his trenchcoat up to hide the bruise that was forming on his jawline and reached the building in record time. Making his way up, he took out his keys and unlocked the door to reveal–

“Dean?” he exclaimed, looking at the figure lounging on the bed, whose head snapped up from scrolling on his phone and whipped around to look at Cas.

“Cas? Weren't you with Charlie?”

“Aren't you supposed to be with Bobby?”

Dean said, rolling his eyes, “Bobby threw my ass out after I got done with his work because tomorrow's a school day.”

Cas hummed at that, and said, “Charlie called because there was a small fire while her mom was cooking, but by the time I got there, they managed to stop it, so she sent me back too.”

“Is everyone okay? Do they need any help? I could ask Jody to send someone over to check up on them and make sure everything's fine and–”

“They're okay, but thank you.” Cas sent a small smile at his boyfriend and started to make his way over to the bathroom when Dean called out to him.

“Cas, what's that on your jaw?” Thankfully, he didn't look to closely enough to spot an

"It's nothing, Dean, don't worry."

"Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna, but at least let me help you." He got up to get Cas an ice pack from the common area's fridge. In the meantime, Cas cleaned and dressed the wounds on his side and changed into his PJs.

Dean came back in a few minutes and pressed the ice pack to Cas' jaw. Even though his eyes were begging Cas to tell him where he got the bruise, he didn't ask about it, just like he promised. Cas thanked him after it was done, and decided to call it a night. His dreams were filled with visions of dinner plates, burgers, and 2 distinct pairs of green eyes.

Chapter Text

Hello to anyone who's reading this! This fic used to be called An Angel and his Demon, but I decided to give the name a little update, as I like this better!

It's been 4 years since my last update, and I've lived a whole lifetime between then and now, but I'm back. I've been editing the fic in my free time. The new version of chapters 1, 2, and 3 and 4 are up. I'm hoping to actually finish the book this time around. Please do reread those if you want to understand the parts that will be uploaded next, as the book has been heavily edited and some plot points have been changed.

Thank you again for taking time to read this, I appreciate you all a lot and hope you enjoy the updated version of this book.