Destiel One Shots

So What

So Sam was out for the day, no biggie. So he conveniently did it when Cas was still recovering, lounging about with a grey, tight top and baggy sweatpants of Dean's, his tufts of hair even tuftier than usual - this was still a coincidence. So he winked at Dean as he left, saying 'he and Cas could have some alone time', it was still nothing suggestive.

Yeah, and maybe Sam left him a condom under his pillow, but that was just a joke. Perhaps the 'Top 20 hits to get you in the mood' sensual songs of the fucking century left on by, of course, Sam in the Bunker was a mistake. A weird one because where the fuck did he get that album, but a mistake nonetheless.

So what if Dean heard the Angel coughing and immediately rushed in to see if he was okay? So what if he kept checking on Castiel through an ajar for, or then going in and asking if he would like anything, only to have that surprised and soft smile on Cas' face as he shakes his head. Or a gentle 'No' in reply to it all?

So what if he had sweaty palms and a leg that wouldn't stop shaking when he sat down, head in hands? So what if Sam had left him chocolates labelled 'for Castiel, love Dean' and Dean had blushed immediately. Luckily no one was around to see.

So what?

Unfortunately these events were the only thing on Dean's mind. All day. Scratching at his mind so much that Dean felt like he was going crazy.

What on earth was Sam's motives anyway? Surely, having them as a couple would just complicate things.

Dean sat down on the edge of his bed. That's all he could do between anxiously pacing the corridors or staring at the coffee machine.

He wasn't in the mood for porn, and also that meant getting Sam's laptop from his room where Cas was currently curled up in an adorable ball of sleepiness and dopey smiles. He'd be in there, eyes glazed over Netflix or closed, simply listening to Jessica Jones' voice battling David Tennant's character.

Fuck. Dean needed to stop thinking about all the little details of Cas that made him...that made him fall in love with him.

There. He said it.

He kept telling himself to just go in there and lie with him, watch whatever shitty program is on, hold him close.

Dean got up again, taking off his headphones and putting away the pink mp3. Then he ventured into the kitchen, he was wearing shorts because it was that or boxer briefs. And he wasn't risking Sam coming home and seeing him like that. And wearing the AC/DC, worn and torn shirt wasn't the worst combination he had. He could be wearing satin panties, now that would be awkward.

In the kitchen there was just a simple pecan pie on the table when he walked in. Sam probably left it for Dean. As his eye line raised up to the anomaly at the other end of the room, Dean recognised the figure as Cas with the grey v-neck, slightly tanned skin and raven, fluffy hair.

"Dean." His voice was rough and heavy. Castiel was leaning up against the counter top with a cup of what smelled like coffee in his hand, his head turned to face Dean.

"Uh, hey Cas," Dean managed say, scratching the back of his neck. "How-How are you doing?"

"I'm feeling good, thank you," he said with a small, cute smile.