Castiel feels as if as he is on the precipice of insanity. Dean attempts to explain that’s perfectly normal when you’ve got a crush. Castiel says he is merely inclined to spend more time with one person in particular. Dean facepalmed.

“I am unfamiliar with human courtship, Dean.” You hear the voice of Castiel say from behind a closed door.

“As an angel I am not even supposed to be capable of these feelings—“

Dean cuts him off abruptly.

“God—you sound so clinical. Even when you’re crushing.” He sighs and you can practically hear him shaking his head in disapproval.

“Dont blaspheme.”

“You’re hopeless.”

Unable to fight the curiosity, you poke your head in—Castiel goes rigid like a statue. Transfixed on every wrinkle, fold, pore on your face—words with such negative connotations, but to Castiel they were what made you beautiful.

“Hello.” He says, his usually mechanical voice actually sounds rather tense. Like there is some fibre of emotion in his lil’ angel noggin.