Dear Castiel,

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Dear Castiel,

I hate this, I hate how I feel about you, the fact that when you walk by and talk to Dean or are just simply hanging around in the same room with me for whatever reason, I get nervous and sweaty and I try not to stare, though I’m pretty bad at it with all those glances I’m tragically bad at stealing unnoticed.

I hate that whenever I try to talk to you something interrupts us or you don’t get that I’m desperately trying to start up a conversation and you fly away. Please oh please tell me how I can sit you down and get your full attention, all your complex yet simple and beautiful thoughts swirling around me and analyzing me and feasting on my every word searching for the perfect response. I want to know what it’s like to be looked at and admired even if for a minute by your captivatingly electric blue eyes.  

I remember when I first met you I was so excited and nervous, I wanted to make my first impression on you the best impression I had capable of spewing out of my personality and attitude as possible. I finally met an angle, the creatures of love and forgiveness and beauty. And Castiel you were definitely the most beautiful of all faces I’ve ever seen and proved that angles are loving and forgiving. Even if you’re the only one that is.

It utterly bothers me like a fly buzzing around and around your head that just won’t leave you alone that I feel so helpless when you’re near me and utterly hopeless when you’re not. How I get butterflies just thinking about you and how much it hurts to write this letter that I’ll most likely never give to you or show anyone.  

I want to be the one who teaches you how to love some one, how to hold them and kiss them and make them ride as high as the moon in the sky at night. I want to be the one you want to do that with. I want to lay down and feel the warmth you have to offer right there next me. Not be so cold and alone when I fall asleep and wake up every morning and know you’re somewhere out there doing God knows what but you’re not here.

 

I feel like I shouldn’t feel this way. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. I know it’s a bit, no, very ridiculous. But I can’t help it, with you and your stupid trench coat and the dorky way you find everything fascinating and the stupidly cute way you are blunt and upfront about everything you say. All of you is just, it takes my breath away.

I just freaking wish you would talk to me, really talk to me and really laugh with me. I wish you would hold my hand in public and let me hold you in the privacy of our trashy hotel rooms and underground bunker. Wish you would let me kiss you softly and play with your hair as I lay beside you at night. Castiel I’m falling in love with you and I wish you would swoop down and catch me because I’m scared of falling.   

Love,

Sam Winchester

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