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Day Eleven

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"Cas!" you call, coming down the stairs of the Bunker. "We're back!"

The ex-Angel emerges from the kitchen, peanut butter and jelly sandwich in hand. "Hello, Y/N," he says with a bright smile.

You bound across the room to kiss him. "Hi," you say fondly. "I brought something for you." You hold up the grocery sack.

"A gift?" He looks puzzled, but he takes the bag and sets it on the big map table.

He stuffs the rest his sandwich in his mouth to free up his hands, making you giggle. Sam joins you at the table while Dean goes to the kitchen to start putting things away. It's his kitchen, so everything is set up the way he likes it.

Cas brushes the crumbs from his hands and reaches into the bag to pull out a fairly nondescript box with a picture of a phone on the front.

"Smart phone," he reads. Puzzled, he asks, "I don't understand. How is a phone smart?"

You laugh. "It's a computer, Cas, but in the form of a phone. Here, I'll help you."

You take him into the library and spread the phone and instructions out on the table.

"This is the power button," you say, showing him the button at the top of the device. "It won't turn on yet because we have to charge and activate it." You pull the charging cord from the box. "This is what we're going to use to charge it."

You show Cas how to plug in the charger and hook it up to the phone.

"How long will it require to charge?" Cas asks, watching the little battery appear on the screen.

"A few hours," you say. "We should probably find something to do."

You end up watching Mean Girls, because it's one of your favorite movies and Cas has grown to love it as well. The phone isn't done charging when the movie's over, but dinner is ready. Dean's newest recipe- a white chicken chili that is absolutely delicious- provides to be a suitable distraction from the wait. Then, because Dean cooked, you, Sam, and Cas are on cleanup duty. By the time all the dishes and leftovers are put away, the phone is ready to go.

You help Cas activate it and then show him how to insert contacts. You, Dean, and Sam are the first numbers. After contacts comes settings, pictures, video, internet (that's a fun explanation), and then finally texting.

"I'm not sure I understand the purpose of this," he says. "Why would I not just call you?"

"Because in some situations calling is a bad idea," you explain. "Like if the person you're calling is trying not to be noticed."

"Oh. Oh." He nods in understanding. "I shall keep that in mind."

XXXXXX

A few days later, Cas discovers emoticons.

You learn this when he sends you a text that reads I miss you. Please return soon and is completed by one of the heart emojis. You suppress a giggle and type a response.

I've got everything, so I'm going to pay and head home. I'll be back soon.

Drive safely, please.

I will. Love you.

His next text is a series of heart emojis that is both dorky and cute, and warms your heart. You know exactly what he means and that's what's important.

Soon, heart emojis become a regular thing. It's not uncommon for you to open texts containing a heart. It's his little special way of saying "I love you." You adore it. It's just another one of Cas' quirks and another reason why you love him.

XXXXXX

It takes a month before Cas discovers Instagram and, through it, selfies.

You're out for dinner one night when he suddenly pulls out his phone and says, "Let's take a selfie."

You stare. "Where did you learn that word?"

"From a group of teenage girls at the store yesterday," he says. "They helped me to download Instagram. I would like to use it to document our relationship in the form of pictures."

That makes you laugh, but you happily let him take the picture.

XXXXXX

Little do you know, this selfie is about to become one of many, as Cas gains followers. He takes pictures of you everywhere- in the kitchen making dinner, getting ready for the day, cuddling with him in bed, and reading are his favorites. It may be the domesticity of the scenes. They don't draw suspicion. He has, however, taken pictures of you doing more exciting things, like yoga and shooting practice. He's even gotten one of the Winchesters to take pictures of you and Cas sparring.

When you finally go through the posts one night, you're surprised to see how artful the pictures are. They're all perfectly planned and if you didn't know better, you'd think they were taken by a professional photographer. Each is accompanied by a description no one but Cas could write.

"What are you doing?" Cas asks when he looks up from his book to see you on his phone.

"Just looking at your INstagram," you answer. "Cas, these are gorgeous." There are a few that aren't of you, but of nature scenes. Leaves and birds and sunsets.

"They're nothing special," he says modestly, rolling to lay his head against your shoulder.

"Have you not read the comments?"

"No."

You pick one of the earlier posts, a simple picture of you reading on the couch. You're not sure how Cas pulled it off- probably some Angel mojo, for all you know- but the focus of the picture is actually the glass of water on the coffee table next to the couch. You're in the background, a little fuzzy. The overall effect is quite stunning and the comments say so. You scroll through them, letting Cas read each one. He's blushing and it's only getting deeper.

"Oh," he says softly. "I just take pictures I find aesthetically pleasing myself. I had no idea people found this to be a skill."

"It is a skill," you tell him. "So keep taking pictures." You return his phone to him.

"I thought you didn't like when I posted pictures of you?"

It's true, you'd told him before that you weren't the biggest fan of hundreds of people seeing pictures of you. But that was back before you actually knew what the pictures looked like. You've always been self-conscious and tend to think you look hideous in pictures, but these? These make you look beautiful, because Cas take pictures that allow the world to see you the way he does. It's his way of telling the world- or at least his followers- how much he loves you.

"I changed my mind," you say, turning to press a kiss to his forehead. "I don't mind."