A moment in 6x19 struck me. Enjoy.

We were caught up and lost in all our vices...

"Hey Cas, um, Dean's bleeding pretty good." Sam is all worry for Dean; always for Dean. Cas, well, he's never seen a bond like theirs, though Michael and Lucifer each would boast of their past, spinning tales as though, once upon a time, they were halves of the same soul. This, though- Dean, Sam, and this constancy- this was what true brotherhood meant.

"I think she turned me into a Jefferson Star Ship...could you clear that up too?"

He swallows thickly, knowing that touching Dean is like looking into the sun, which even for an angel is dangerous. And that's Dean all over, isn't it, trembling hands and dry lips; risk and temptation.

So, he touches him, heals him- and it is a second that lasts for eternity, his hand on Dean's broad shoulder, jacket rough and worn under his palm, and he can feel, so intensely (though that is nothing new, not where Dean is concerned), the heat of him, the blood rushing through his veins, an inferno of life. Dean's heartbeat races, though he appears quite calm and only mildly concerned for his safety.

Cas knows this. He knows Dean's blatant disregard for his own life, knows it like he knows the names of all the stars in the heavens, or knows every singular speck of green and hazel in Dean's eyes. Dean is too much like his father, Cas thinks- not John, though their similarities too are striking, but Bobby.

Bobby is all blazing guns and brackish words, though his soul is soft, made of strong, pure stuff. Without batting an eyelash, Dean would lay his life down- and had, so many times- for somebody else, for anybody else. He was so admirably human, and yet, at the same time, a warrior so much stronger than Cas had known any warrior- human, angel, demon, monster- to be.

It's love, of course. True love. Simple, complicated, vulnerable. That, too, is Dean all over, and Cas knows that he's on shaky ground, has been for a long time now. Perhaps this is his path, and perhaps it is not. Who could tell? Surely not his Father. Surely not himself.

And then it's over, and he drops his hand from Dean, looks away from him- the sun, again. Too bright, too alluring, too unstable.

If that is what Dean is to him, he wonders what he could possibly be to Dean.

Probably you'll see more Destiel from me, drabbles and longer one-shots, etc. Lyrics used from Pompeii by Bastille.