You were never supposed to fall in love with an angel. But then again, Castiel was never supposed to fall.

The world is quiet for once — no hunt, no apocalypse on the horizon. Just the bunker. Just the dim hum of overhead lights and the scent of old lore books and whiskey. You're in the war room, staring at your hands, wondering when it got this hard to breathe.

Cas enters without a sound. No flapping of wings, no flash of light. Just... him. His trench coat is open, tie crooked, sleeves rolled up. Beautiful. And looking at you like you hung the stars he once walked among.

“I heard your heart beating faster,” he says softly, tilting his head. “Are you afraid of me? Or, what you feel?”

He walks closer — not to intimidate, but to offer warmth in a world that rarely gives it.