Hello, all of my subscribers! I am SO SORRY! A couple of months ago, my computer crashed, and I lost like twenty thousand words worth of work on various stories. I've just finally had the heart to start writing again, and slowly, but surely, Supernatural is pulling me in. I've only seen a few episodes, but I already ship Destiel so hard. There is no way that those two are straight. (No two straight men stare at each other that much or with that intensity. *cough* thelasttimesomeonelookedatmelikethatwellIgotlaid *cough*) Anyways, this is a kind of an abstract work, and I'm going for a Drabble-y, general feeling (Mostly from Cas's POV) I hope it turned out alright. I'm sure it's super cheesy, overly fluffy and OOC, but Enjoy!

Rough, calloused hands held him captive, firmly pinning his wrists to the wall. A half smirk and amused green eyes taunted him from above; he was certain that he'd never felt so small as when Dean was looming over him.

"What was that, Cas?" He chuckled. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

"You know damn well that you heard what I said the first time." He muttered to himself, casting his gaze to the floor.

"I'm waiting." The emerald gaze flickered with doubt and he sighed.

"For thousands upon thousands of years, in the entirety of my existence, I have been cold, unfeeling. My father created every being to belong in pairs, with the exception of the angels. Even so, most of my brethren have paired off, leaving me as one of the few alone. Still, in all of my life, I never questioned, never desired another's company. I could never fathom humanity's blinding light, even as I swore to love it unconditionally. Before I met you, I was never lonely, because you must first feel something in order to feel it's loss. When I descended with the garrison, it was simply meant to be another mindless mission, but in Hell, your soul was a becon. It was, is, and will ever be the most beautiful thing my senses have perceived. Every angel waded through hordes of demons, hoping to appeal to Micheal, but your very essence called out to me. I was drawn to you like a moth is inexorably drawn towards its demise by the light of an inferno in the dark. I got to you first, leaving everyone else fleeing in my wake. My hand print was seared into the flesh of your shoulder as you clung to be with everything you are, and ever could be. I cradled your broken and damaged soul in my arms; I rebuilt your body from the atoms upward, and I had the pleasure of restoring the most perfect being in all of creation. I know you more intimately and completely than anyone else in existence. Yet as I pryed myself away from you, so you could return to your family, I sensed how you felt, that you were not meant to be redeemed, that you did not deserve to be saved. It is I who is unworthy, I do not deserve you, Dean Winchester. Everthing that has happened to me, everything that I've ever felt, has been because of you. Of course, that entails heartbreak and suffering, but there cannot be joy without equal pain. I. Love. You, Dean Winchester, and loving you is the most exquisite form of self destruction. I would rather die tomorrow than face another eternity without you. So please, don't make me repeat myself, this is hard enough once." He hated how is voice cracked a little at the end, betraying his vulnerability.

"Why?" Dean's tone was teasing on the surface, but was thick with dark under currents. He could almost hear the questions. Why me? Why would you endure all of that for me? Instead of voicing his doubts, Dean abruptly changed the topic. "You know, ya have nothing to be worried about. Want me to let you in on a secret?" Dean's lips skimmed dangerously close to the shell of his ear, ghosting patterns along the sensive skin, and his wrists were release as Dean's hand cupped his jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing circles on his cheek. "I'm not really one for chick flick moments, but I love you, too."

With that, he lunged for Dean's lips, mouths melding like they had been doing this dance for eternities, rather than for the first time ever. He pulled away for a few seconds, bitterly cursing his vessel's need for air, to pepper open mouthed kisses along Dean's throat, sucking ever so slightly. Dean gazed down him with heavy- lidded, lust blown eyes and whispered. "Why me? Why am I worthy of an angel's devotion?"

In turn, he murmured back, "Because, Dean, you are my salvation."

YAY! That was so much fluff and so much fun to write. I know, it's sooooo cliche and OOC, but I don't even care. This is my first non-cannon gay ship, technically, so some one pop the champagne and we can celebrate. Please, let me know what you thought in the reviews! :)