𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐒

castiel hadn’t been in this world long. but he’d been in this world long enough to realise he understood very little of … everything. the “fast food” that appeared inedible, the (what he assumed to be) crude language shouted casually between innocent civilians, and the godawful noise that constantly engulfed the city. any human interaction he witnessed left him further confused, and he only felt increasingly out of his depth.

and once he’d settled with the winchesters, well, they didn’t help much either. dean only teased him for his cluelessness, and sam always seemed to busy for his incessant questioning. you seemed to be the only one that he could get a straight answer from.

it was morning, and the light shone through the crappy motel curtains onto your bed. it was late, and you knew you should get up soon, but it was your day off. no hunt, no case, no life or death. just these uncomfortable, if slightly relieving, motel sheets.

the serenity of the moment was shattered, the door almost falling off its rusting hinges with the entry of a infuriatingly familiar voice.

castiel marched into the room, calling your name. he placed himself firmly at the end of your bed, a question at the tip of his tongue, ready to interrogate you until the answer was satisfactory. the angel’s lack of personal space and privacy really shone through at moments like these.