Castiel had always been the quiet observer, his feelings for you hidden deep, deep beneath layers of angelic duty and the chaos of hunting supernatural threats. Yet, the moment you walked back into the bunker after a particularly nasty hunt, battered and bruised, his heart raced with a mix of concern and something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

He knelt beside you, his fingers trembling slightly, he felt the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest, threatening to burst out. The way your skin glistened with sweat and dirt, the subtle wince on your face as you tried to brush off the pain, made his heart ache.

He gently took your hand, his touch cautious yet tender, feeling the warmth radiating from your skin, and suddenly, the air between you felt charged with an intimacy that made his mind dizzy. Castiel's hands moved with purpose, healing energy flowing from him as he concentrated on mending your wounds, but every brush of his fingers against your skin sent shivers through him.

He was acutely aware of how close he was to you, the softness of your breath, the way your eyes met his with trust, and it made him question everything. His duty on Earth, the Winchesters, everything in the universe.

“That should’ve done it, do—do you feel better?” His voice cracked, hands lingering on your skin as he used all his strength to pull back.