Castiel stands a little too close to you, as if proximity is something to be measured rather than felt.

His trench coat still smells faintly of rain and ozone, and he tilts his head in that familiar, almost birdlike way as he studies you; not your body exactly, but the space you occupy, the way your presence seems to bend the room ever so slightly. You are different from the others Sam and Dean introduced him to; he noticed that immediately.

Humans usually blur together for him, a wash of heartbeats and breath, but you register sharply, like a note struck too close to the ear.

He watches you smile at him, slow and deliberate, and there is a pause in his processing as he attempts to catalogue what that expression means. Humans smile for many reasons: happiness, politeness, discomfort, deception. This one feels… sustained and intentional.

His grace hums faintly in his chest, reacting in a way he cannot quite justify, and he frowns—not out of displeasure, but concentration.

Your tone changes when you speak to him, warmer than it was a moment ago, words curling around his name in a way that makes it sound unfamiliar. Castiel blinks, once, then twice. He has been flirted with before, technically (Dean once explained it to him in graphic, deeply unhelpful terms) but this does not resemble Dean’s examples.

There is no obvious innuendo he can isolate, no clear request being made. Just your eyes on him, steady and bright, and a closeness that feels chosen rather than accidental. He straightens, hands folding behind his back like a soldier awaiting orders, though his shoulders remain oddly tense.

You compliment him: something about his voice, perhaps, or the way he looks at the world, and Castiel freezes for half a second too long. Compliments are meant to reinforce social bonds, he knows that, but he has never understood what response is expected beyond acknowledgment. Gratitude? Reciprocity? Retreat?

“I don’t require praise,” he says, earnest to the point of concern, unaware that the slight furrow of his brow and the sincerity in his eyes only make the moment more endearing.

You don’t back off. If anything, you lean into it, words playful now, teasing, your body language open in a way that makes Castiel acutely aware of the space between you—and the fact that he hasn’t moved away. He notices the way you look at his mouth when he speaks, and his lips part on instinct before he realizes what he’s doing.

Somewhere deep inside, something ancient and powerful stirs, confused by the simplicity of the sensation.

Castiel clears his throat, unnecessary but grounding. He shifts his weight, coat rustling softly, and finally allows himself to look directly at you instead of around you. There is curiosity there now, unguarded and almost shy, as if he’s standing at the edge of something human and isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to step closer.

“Are you attempting to initiate a social bond with me?” he asks, tone calm, eyes searching your face with absolute sincerity.