what i really fucking love about writing cas is that he can have really relaxed, casual speech and say ‘yeah, look how well that worked out’
but he can also have fucking beautiful, poetic dialogue ‘has anyone but your own kin ever done more for you?’
and he’s so hyper literal that he can add lightness and humor to scenes that by all rights are very heavy (if the emperor is metatron) and the way he sees things is just really unique and fun
fuck i just really love castiel
whoa whoa whoa I’m almost at my next follower goal
oooo follow follow follow her and you will have made the best life choice ever
SAME TOO. CAROLINE IS LITERALLY THE BEST OKAY.
(prompt: HS!AU prom, Cas asks Dean to dance)
Dean has no idea why he let Jo drag him into this. He doesn’t like 99% of his classmates, yet here he is, spending his free Saturday night locked in a gymnasium with them. Not only that, but he paid 30 bucks for the privilege.
It’s all Jo’s fault. She’s the one who leaned close in the hallway and whispered, “I hear Castiel is going alone.” She knew perfectly well that Dean had chickened out asking him - not that it was really his fault. Cas is gorgeous and smart and rich and funny and an amazing soccer player. He’s got nice hair and too-blue eyes and a shy smile that makes Dean’s heart do back-flips. It’s just - intimidating. Plus, he’s always surrounded by his clique, the cool kids, the angels. Dean can’t get within ten feet of them without at least one turning to glare at him.
Cas’s surrounded by that same group now when Dean finally spots him.
Cas’s always been attractive, but tonight, wrapped in a well-fitted tuxedo, Cas could light the room on fire. His hair’s combed neatly though, taming the usual bedhead he sports. He looks good, but Dean really just wants to run his fingers through it and make it wild like usual. He’s hot, but he’s not quite Cas - not yet.
Cas glances over and Dean drops his gaze. His own clothes are nothing so lavish. He didn’t have the money to run out and rent a tux. He had to settle for khaki Dockers, a button-up shirt, and his leather jacket. His black boots are scuffed. He should have polished them.
He never should have come here at all.
Jo laughs beside him. “You lucky son of a gun,” she says and disappears into the crowd. Dean thinks of going after her, when someone coughs from the other side of him. He turns, ready to tell whoever off and just bail on this whole thing. Cas is never going to want to talk to him, let alone be with him.
Except, when he turns, Cas is the one standing there.
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