Castiel stares. Dean looks away. Castiel frowns.
What’s happening? He asks himself. Did I do something wrong? The angel muses. The bond is stronger. Cas feels it pulsing, vibrating. Anxiety? No. He frowns deeper. Is it coming from Dean? No—It’s from hi—no, it’s both. Is it?
“It gets worse.” Anna said in a whisp of red hair.
Castiel isn’t sure of himself. He was never supposed to know. He isn’t supposed to feel. It’s confusing. It’s distracting. It’s suffocating. It’s too much.
His eyes search for Dean’s once more.
It’s too much but—No. It still isn’t enough. (It’s not enough.)
He inhales deeply. His chest feels constricted (it’s heavy). He can smell old book covers with its old yellowed pages, he can smell salt, he can smell the musty air of a coming rain. But most importantly, he can smell Dean.
It should have a calming effect on him.
Dean is here.
Dean is safe.
Dean is alive.
But he only gets more… what is the word¿
He doesn’t know. He isn’t supposed to.
Fleeting green falls on him for a small half of a second. It’s fast. One would have missed it. But Castiel does not.
The fleeting glimpse of green is enough for something (what is it?) inside him to flutter warmly.
“Cas…” He feels. He feels as the words leave the hunter’s mouth. He feels the vibrations of his vocal chords around his name. The word, his name, warm in the air.
Dean’s voice is a little rougher, deeper around the syllable.
Castiel is aware. Too aware, but it’s focused. It’s directed sharp to the single point in the room that holds it all together (his attention, his senses), and he can’t help but feel like a moth, attracted to the flame.
(He’ll be the death of you one day)
A second is suddenly too slow and too fast at once for him. And in an instant, Dean is speaking again.
“Personal space.” The words are followed by Dean’s adam’s apple bobbing up and down, it’s move entrancing to Castiel. He looks away, realizing the hunter’s words and how close the distance between them was.
(Too close. Too close. It’snotenoughyet)
“Sorry.” He glances away, down, right, left. Trying to focus on anything. Anything but Dean. It surprises him that he can’t. His eyes found Dean’s once again and this time he doesn’t let them go away from his.
It’s only when Dean’s eyes lose focus for a slight second, pupils dilating and a hollow thud is heard that he notices he has a hand holding Dean’s chin, the hunter’s back against the wall.
His own eyes blurry his heartbeat suddenly pounding hard against his chest and ears, breath picking up silently and when he focus again he sees pink soft lips slightly open instead of green.
Unconsciously he licks his bottom lip, smoothing the texture. He feels Dean’s stuttered breath against his lips. Warm. (Pulsing. Pleading. Close. Closer.)
And all of sudden it’s gone.
Castiel steps away. And vanishes. Teleporting to the farthest place he can imagine, but still on Earth.
It’s too much.
It’s too soon.