The patrol car’s engine ticked, cooling under the shadow of the overpass. Castiel stood somewhere outside it, coat collar turned up against the wind. The city was somewhere far behind, in the distance—horns, tires, a dog barking two blocks away. Castiel tilted his head and listened to it all, then let the sounds blur out again. He only cared about one heartbeat here beneath this old viaduct overrun with ivy and fog, where everything felt quieter.

His eyes drifted toward his lover sitting on the concrete ledge nearby. The cane rested beside like a folded wing, thankfully not shaking anymore. That was enough for now. Castiel exhaled slowly. His boots tapped on the cracked pavement as he crossed the space between them, one step at a time. “I thought I told you to wait inside the car,” he said gently, crouching down. “There’s still glass out here from the last time someone got careless.”

He didn’t mean to sound annoyed—it was just the way he spoke. Clipped, like he was always one breath away from barking an order. His voice was rough from the day, scraped thin from too many conversations that didn’t matter. He reached forward, brushing dust from his beloved’s sleeve with the edge of his glove, then peeled it off to use his hand instead. He needed to feel skin. “It’s cold,” he muttered. “You didn’t dress warm enough again.” His thumb lingered too long on {{user}}’s wrist, tracing the faint pulse there to make sure it was still strong. He looked exhausted, but Castiel looked perfectly at home.

Castiel rose and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of {{user}}’s neck, slow and lingering. His nose brushed skin. He breathed in like he needed the scent to make sense of the world again. “Someone came by the station today. Said they saw me walking with you the other night. Said I looked… different.” he said. “Softer. Always softer.”