SPN episode codas (Destiel)

10.18 - Book of the Damned

Castiel hasn't heard Dean laugh like this in years. His laughter is a beautiful noise, rare and wonderful, and when Dean turns his head and directs his gaze at Castiel, softened by the alcohol and the company, something warm wells up inside.

He doesn't drink the beer. He doesn't eat the pizza-it's all molecules now. The remnants of his wings smolder, but he rejoices in the people who surround him, in the bright young woman whose smile is genuine and radiant; in Sam, whose devotion is a wonder; in Dean, who has borne so much, yet finds reasons to go on: his brother, Charlie, perhaps even Castiel himself.

Charlie urges him to remove his coat. He doesn't register temperature any longer, can't feel the chair beneath his legs unless he focuses on it, but he lets it fall from his shoulders and is rewarded by Dean's smile. Charlie lays it over the back of the chair and holds up a piece of paper while Dean pops open another beer. The skin around his eyes crinkles when he looks at Castiel. For once, Dean's smile isn't a mask, and Castiel understands-Dean is happiest when surrounded by his family.

Charlie holds up the paper, which she has folded into the shape of a flower. She inserts her hand underneath and moves her fingers, causing the paper to open and close like a fish's mouth. Inside the flower are words.

"Ask it a question," she prompts.

"Why?" he asks, frowning.

"It's a fortune teller." She speaks quietly, like it's a secret between them.

"Oh," he says.

He hears Metatron's words: Don't you miss the feeling of all of this? Who are you now? How many more rogue angels are there out there? What are you gonna do once you're done with all that?

"What will I do now?" he asks.

"Pick a color," she instructs. He doesn't follow the logic but answers without thought.

"Green."

Her mouth quirks at the corner, but she doesn't explain why. She opens and closes the flower five times.

"Pick a number," she instructs. "One, four, five, or eight."

"One," he says. It's the only number that fits.

She pries up the corner of the paper, folded into the flower's center. "You'll discover that one of your co-workers has a crush on you," she tells him. She raises both eyebrows and clucks, then swipes her beer from the table and takes a swig.

Though it's unnecessary, he adjusts his tie. This is a child's game, yet its response makes him feel momentarily awkward-impotent, as he had when Dean first inquired about his sexual history. He wishes, fleetingly, that he could still taste pizza, so he had an excuse to occupy his hands and mouth.

"Ah," he says, because he isn't sure what else to say. Dean continues to laugh, slapping Castiel's forearm in the process. From the way Charlie's eyes glint, he isn't sure he needs to say anything.

#

Charlie suggested pizza, and Charlie suggests the TV marathon.

"Have you seen Battlestar?" she asks, holding onto Castiel's arm. He shakes his head, mute, and finds himself on the sofa, situated between Charlie and Dean. The coffee table is littered with snacks and the paper fortune teller, which seems to wink at him.

"You're gonna love this," she promises and presses buttons on the remote control. Dean rolls his eyes and leans back, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

It falls behind Castiel's neck and shoulders, but he won't touch it as long as he doesn't move. As long as he remains upright. He tells himself that's the correct thing to do.