Destiel Fluff

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Chapter Four -Home-

Castiel would often sit outside. He'd pick at the grass and look at all the leaves. He'd run the pads of his fingers along the intricate patterns of veins on the back of each of them.

He'd look up at the sky.

He did this at night, too.

Dean had wondered why.

Did he miss home?

His family?

Dean wondered if he would ever be allowed back. He sat there at the window in the kitchen-ish and watched him.

Cas didn't move.

Dean got up from where he was sitting, walked to the fridge and swiftly swiped two cold, shapely beer bottles and sauntered outside.

"What's draggin' you down, Cas?" He asked, popping the small tin cap off of one of the bottles and bringing it to his lips to take a swig.

"Dow-" the ex-angel started to inquire.

Soon cut off by Dean sighing, saying "It's an expression."

"Oh." Cas retorted. He didn't look over to Dean. He continued to pick at the blades of waxy green that had errupted from the ground and seemed to monopolize the jist of the planet that he could see from here. Maybe he didn't look at Dean because he just knew he was there. He didn't need to see him to know he was with him. He knew every detail about that man. Every single thing.

And he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Does it remind you of home?"

"I am home, Dean."

Dean smiled. But the question still nagged at him.

"Then... Why do you come out here every night?" Dean quizzed. He swaggered over to where his Angel was reclined and parallel to the grass, reciprocated the action and tangled their hands together, laying them on the grass.

"I like it out here."

Momentary silence passed.

"Yeah. Me, too."