Destiel One-Shots

Goodbye Stranger

{Human!Cas. Sorry I haven't updated in forever... Happy 2015, have a oneshot - and I swear, this one is fluff! No feels (sad ones anyway)!}

The train drive was a lonely, gruelling journey, but that didn't stop him riding 'till the end of the track. He clambered from the empty carriage and walked in the early morning light toward the little road-side bus shelter.
He pulled his trench coat tighter around his body, doing his best to ignore the rain thundering down onto his shivering form. The small, tin, faded-yellow bus pulled up to him, no one but the driver on board. He payed what little money he had to get on the unsafe-looking form of transportation which he had no idea where it was going, but hey, it was going somewhere away from here.

The inside of the bus was a collection of dusty and torn seats, gum-scattered floor and scratched, misty windows. The rusting metal screamed abandonment. But he didn't mind, nor the isolation of the ride.

Four stops down the lonesome country road, he looked up from his sketch pad to see a man paying the driver. It was the first person, save him, to put their trust this little tin bus, so he was of course intrigued by the new passenger. Especially when the man's amazing green eyes happened to lock with his equally stunning blue.

The man made his way quietly to the seats on the other side of the isle from Castiel. He forced himself to look away from the man's muscular body and back down to where he continued to sketch a Winchester Revolver. After a few moments of quiet, only the creaks of the old bus filling the cold air, he suddenly became oh-so interested in the sounds, all of a sudden noticing the rain had long stopped and the midmorning sunlight was sneaking in through the cracked windows. He suddenly became oh-so interested in focusing his sight completely on his art. And then all hopes of keeping to himself imploded then came together again, just to implode again as a deep voice called out;

"Hi. I'm Dean."
Cas snapped his head up a little too quickly to see the man - Dean apparently - smiling an ever-so-slightly lopsided, wolfish grin at him.

"Umm, hey." Cas shifted in his seat somewhat uncomfortable with Dean's attempt to converse with him. His people skills were a little rusty.

"Whatcha got there?" He grinned again.

"Uh, sketchbook." Cas pointedly stared down at his hands fiddling with the soft edges of his A5 sketchbook, trying to keep himself from looking up and getting lost in those damn perfect eyes and lusting at those soft pink lips and - he was getting side tracked.

"Could I, uh, can I, maybe see?" Dean seemed cautious as he asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

"I guess." He hesitantly passed his sketchbook over. After a few moments an impressed look of awe crossed Dean's face.

Dean passed it back to him. "That's amazing! You're very talented." Cas immediately blushed, a deep crimson creeping up from beneath his collar.

"You can have it if you want." When Dean went to politely turn the offer down, Cas insisted. After a moment, Dean gave in, gladly accepting the gift.

Before Cas had the chance to speak again, the bus pulled up and Dean stood. "Thanks for letting me see." He smiled, a genuine and soft, heart-melting smile at Cas.
"Goodbye Stranger." And with that, Dean walked to the rusted bus door, thanking the driver and stepping onto the kerb.

The bus slowly pulled away, leaving behind a lonely man and a sketchbook with one-less drawing.