Static Radios and Broken Lights

4: A Moose, a Squirrel and a Raven

Sam turned off the TV. I didn't really mind; I wasn't watching it.

Even though Cas had left, I still felt his presence. I didn't acknowledge it or ask him to show himself, just in case he wanted to learn something by watching us (which was a strange mindset, but I didn't care). I tried to ignore that feeling like he was watching me. He probably wasn't, though, because I was an idiot.

Sam turned to face me and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

"Not really," I shook my head. Then I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I think I should want to, but I don't know what to say."

"That's alright, Dean," Sam smiled encouragingly. "You told Cas, didn't you? You took a huge step."

I sighed and held my head in my hands. "But I don't even know if he understands. Even if he does, what if he doesn't feel the same way? Then it'll always be awkward between us. I don't want that."

"Isn't that a risk everyone has to take?" he pointed out.

"That's true," I reasoned. "What should I do, then?"

He seemed caught off guard by that. He flashed a half hearted smile. "You just have to wait and see what he does. and whatever happens, just trust that it's the right thing."

I turned away and pouted a little bit. "That was reassuring," I tried to joke, but the more I thought about it, the more his words made sense. My joke ultimately came out as a grumble.

"Don't take your frustrations out on me. I'm trying to help you," He stood from his seat and huffed. "I guess I'll do something important and look for a new case." He grabbed his laptop and pulled on his shoes. Then he added in a softer tone, "Call me if you need me."

I was upset, but I still felt like I should apologize. Instead, I just nodded and let him leave.

I turned the TV back on, mostly for background noise, as the Impala drove off. I watched the faces on the TV and tried desperately not to think about Cas. About how much I wanted to see him after the events of the other day. About how much I wanted to hold him in my arms, maybe even kiss him, maybe even hold him close and --

I felt the couch shift next to me under a new weight. I glanced to my side and recognized his outline. "Cas," I said. "It's been a few days." I placed my hands at my sides, trying not to look tense, but ultimately feeling very very tense.

"My apologies," He replied, looking at me. "I was conducting some research on romantic relationships between humans." He hesitantly lifted his hand -- it froze in the air for a few moments -- then he placed it on top of mine.

I watched his hand on mine. I tried not to overthink it. His thumb gently moved back and forth, rubbing my skin. My body almost immediately relaxed at his touch, and before I could stop myself, I flipped my hand around and laced our fingers together.

I looked into his eyes for the first time. "So you understand?"

He nodded once. "I'm still very new to this, but yes."

I squeezed his hand slightly. "Can -- Can I ask how you feel about me?" I felt tears rising, but I wasn't sure if they were happy or sad yet. I couldn't stop my face from twisting into one of sadness. I turned away and covered it with my free hand.

I looked back at him. He dropped his gaze to our hands before moving a little closer, and placing his free hand on top of our laced ones. "I care more about you than any other human I've met," he started. "And I care about you more than my brothers and whatever mission they're trying to force on the rest of us," He almost got upset, but let it slide. Then he added, "If that helps."

I cracked a smile and happy tears fell from my eyes. "It really does, Cas."

His lips turned up into a small smile. "I'm glad, Dean."

With my free hand, I reached and touched his face gently. He didn't recoil, but gave me a confused glance. I shifted in my seat and put my hand back on my lap. He wasn't ready, and that was okay.

He didn't let go of my hand, though, and for the longest time, I couldn't tear my eyes away from our laced fingers. I memorized his warmth, the way his thumb always seemed to move in a relaxing manner against the back of my hand. I felt the soft skin on his fingers and the slight roughness to his palms. I knew that this wasn't his real hand -- he probably didn't actually have hands -- that it was Jimmy's, but I felt like no matter what vessel, no matter whose eyes I was looking into, I knew it was Cas. I knew it would always feel like Cas, even if it didn't look like him. I watched his face for awhile, and fought the urge to touch it, to memorize it, too.

After about an hour, Cas let go and stood quickly. "Sam is back," He stated. "Should I leave?"

I furrowed my brows and pulled him back down to sit. "Why would you want to do that?"

He rubbed his neck nervously. "I was under the impression that relationships such as ours are ... uncomfortable for most people; considered to be 'taboo'."

I took his hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to feel uncomfortable holding hands. Sam cares about you. You don't need to hide from him." The words felt weird coming from my mouth. But I realized that I wasn't just saying them for Cas. I was saying them for myself, too.

The door opened, and Sam walked in. Cas turned to look at him. "Hi, Sam," He said.

"Hey," He replied, setting his bag down. He saw my hand holding Cas's, and suddenly I felt naked under his gaze.

I resisted letting go and spouting a lie about how it's "not what it looks like". I smiled through my uneasiness. "Hey," I said finally, maybe a moment or two late. My hand tensed in Cas's. He turned back to look at me.

Sam looked away, clearly seeing my uncomfortableness with the situation. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, glancing at us.

Cas met my eyes, but I was frozen. "No," He said, realizing he still had to answer the question.

"Well don't get too excited, you might pull something," Sam smiled nervously.

I chuckled, and my body relaxed again. I have nothing to worry about. I'm okay. "Thanks, Sam," I stood, still holding Cas's hand. I was clutching it kind of tightly, actually. "Did you find a case?"

"Yes, actually," He said, opening his laptop to a newspaper's website. "For the past few weeks, there have been three murders, all of them happened at night, and their hearts were missing. One victim got away, and he claimed, and I quote 'the guy burned when he touched my silver cross'." He looked back at us.

"Sounds like a werewolf," I shrugged. "But three murders in less than a month sounds like a pack. That's a lot for one dog to handle."

"I agree," Sam nodded, closing his laptop. "It's two states over."

Cas stood suddenly. "I'd like to help."

Sam chuckled playfully. "Isn't that kinda ... below your pay grade?" His joking tone and expression dropped, and I looked at Cas's face.

It had dropped. He stared at his hand in mine, then looked up at me sadly. Then he was gone.

So I gotta admit, calling Cas a raven seems really clever. I mean his wings are black. I can't believe i've never heard it before! Anyway, thanks for reading.

Word count: 1341