It's In Your Eyes

But it's not a she...

Castiel's POV -

It's been almost two whole weeks since I got out of the hospital wing. And Dean's been hot and cold with me...

There are two possibilities here. Either Dean has no feelings what so ever for me and I'm just making the whole thing up, seeing awkwardness and meaning where there is none. Or he's...

"Dean?" I hiss into the darkness when something bumps against my bedpost, shaking the whole frame, with a soft 'oof' to follow.

There's a pause before-

"Cas?" He sounds irritated. "Go back to sleep."

"Wha-?"

"Just, go back to sleep. You've had a long day."

He stumbles on out the room without another word, leaving me gaping at the shadowed wall across from me. His tone had been so forceful.

~

I tried. I really did. But I couldn't rest and it was so hot, and the smell of alcohol that had reached me seconds after Dean had spoke and left the room was too strong to mean anything good.

So I pulled myself out of the sticky heat of my covers and padded towards the door, and down the corridor towards the glow of light from the common room.

Before I even reached the door I could hear the faint sound of my Elvis Costello record just beginning to play 'She' out to the dimly lit room. Empty room, I think at first glance as I gently push the door open. But then I see him, curled up in a chair by the turntable, eyes drooping, closed, head nodding softly, completely lost to it.

She, may be the face I can't forget. The trace of pleasure or regret. May be my treasure or the price I have to pay.

I huddle against the doorframe, can't stand to move and risk disturbing him just yet. He has my vinyl sleeve pressed between his palms in his lap, a glass of amber liquid that he should not be drinking balanced on the arm of the chair. Part of me strains, desperate to try and protect my precious record from an imminent spillage. But most of me doesn't really give a damn right now. Not looking at him looking like that...

She, may be the song that summer sings. May be the chill that autumn brings. May be a hundred different things, within the measure or a day.

His nod falls a little deeper and he snaps his head back up. And sees me, watching him.

She, may be the beauty or the beast. May be the famine or the feast. May turn each day into a heaven or a hell.

"Cas..." He watches me as I walk into the room. No use stalling by the door now. And come right up to him. I don't know, it just seems right to get close because he looks like he needs comfort. It doesn't matter how I feel about the closeness. It's not about me when someone is like this. So stow my crap now. "What- I told you just to go back to sleep."

He's slurring a little, but he's not as bad as I'd expected at first. And I don't even think he realises that his hand feel from his lap and the record onto my leg. So naturally it's all I can think about.

"You okay Dean?"

Most guys would say 'dude' or 'mate' or something. But so, I had to say his name in my pathetic, deep way that feels good but far too soppy for words...

She may be the mirror of my dreams. The smile reflected in a stream. She may not be what she may seem, inside her shell.

"You're not what you seem, are you Cas?" He slid forward a bit, to perch on the edge of his chair, so close to me I can feel the slight warm blush of his breaths against me lips. "You're... Special."

"I've been called that..." I sigh, remembering cruel children at my old school, using mental illness, disabilities and social anxiety as an insult. Throwing words that hold great meaning and pain around as if they're bad grammar...

"No. Like, really special... Like, strong... Kind... You're so loving it makes it so difficult..." He's rambling but heat prickles up my neck with every single syllable.

"Difficult?" I stumble out, staying as calm on the surface as I can. But I'm more than confused. He's drunk. I think he's quite drunk... "Difficult to what?"

"To... Just-"

He looks at me with this loaded, intense stare and I can't stop my heart rate from leaping faster, leaning in the tiniest bit as he moves so close to me his mouth is nearly touching mine. I want to close the gap. I really do...

"She she she." He huffs out, exasperated and bright red with suppressed embarrassment, pulling well back and scrambling to his feet. "Always she. But it's not a she... It should be h-" He hiccups and pauses, glancing up through thick, dark, perfect eyelashes. "Other than she, this song-"

He hurries away out of the room but I hear it, those last words. And they're to himself, not me. As though I wasn't even there to possibly hear.

"It's completely about Castiel."