Random Destiel Stories

I Only Have Eyes For You

Hello, all. It's been a while eh? Thank you guys for all of your comments, I've been reading them all through email, which is why I haven't responded. And I'm very sorry for the long wait, I was busy with schoolwork and then that goddamn writer's block hit me. I am slowly getting out of it.

So I hope you guys enjoy this one. Random story and all. AND I HOPE YOU GUYS KNOW THAT ALL OF YOUR COMMENTS MEAN A HECK OF A LOT TO ME. Gah I'll try to update sooner now.

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It wasn’t like he paid that much attention to it, but sometimes when Dean looked up or across the room or over the table he’d catch Castiel looking at him. And there was nothing wrong with that usually, it was just the way that he looked at him.

Like how when Dean would wake up in the morning the first thing he’d see would be Castiel’s face in the weak light of the early morning, chin propped up on the hunter’s stomach, staring up at him. Dean guessed that Cas wasn’t too aware that he was still awake enough to see the adoration in the fallen angel’s face, the happiness. Like it was endlessly enjoyable to watch a man snore, grumble, toss and turn and scratch his face all night.

“The hell are you looking at?” Dean would grumble, except it came out sounding more like, “ellerr ooka?” And Cas, the bastard, would smirk knowingly at the hunter’s embarrassment and fake a yawn before burying his face back into Dean’s side.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he’d rumble, voice piercing right through Dean’s skin.

In the bathroom he’d watch Dean shave, brush his teeth, poke at weird new pimples on his face. Dean would sneak looks at him through the mirror, watch as Castiel’s eyes traced the movements of his hands, as if he was worried the hunter would make a mistake and hurt himself. Dean never pointed out the fact that he was very capable, what with his more than thirty years of experience in taking care of his personal hygiene.

Cas’s eyes would be creased with worry, his hands unconsciously clenching and unclenching, making this face like it would just crush him if Dean got injured.

He’d stop stealing glances at the ex-angel at this point, because you could only make so many mistakes when brushing your teeth, but Dean might as well have been defusing a ticking time bomb with the way Cas was watching.

“You gonna watch me piss too?” he’d snap, wanting to stop seeing that concern, that care in his eyes.

But it wasn’t just when they were alone. At breakfast he’d be halfway through shoveling food in his mouth when he’d feel those eyes on him. Eyes that said too much when they met his, a warm smile plastered on his face. Like the time he watched Dean accidentally smear yolk onto the side of his mouth. Did he say anything though? Hand over a napkin? Nope.

He giggled.

Well, to be fair, it was more like a few huffs of breath and a deep, quiet chuckle. But for how much it shattered Dean’s calmness it might as well have been. His eyes were crinkled up and the hunter could see dimples. He tore his eyes away from Cas to Sam, who was staring between the two of them in amusement.

“Cas what the hell-” he started.

“Dean, you’ve got-” Sam pointed to his face and Dean caught on. The fallen angel was still staring, a small smile glued to his face.

“Cas?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

Castiel shook his head almost comically and tried his best to look serious, “Sorry, I....it...was endearing.”