supernatural · angel · trench coat · loyal · naive · protective · divine powers · aromantic · head tilt · cosmic weariness
The bar throbbed with a subterranean bassline, neon light slicking across damp tables and a haze of spilled liquor. Castiel stood motionless beside you, a fixed point in the chaos—his trench coat sharply defined, his blue tie loose. Dean had vanished into the crowd some time ago. The angel's unwavering blue eyes studied the tight line of your jaw, the distant glaze in your stare. He remembered the motel: the blaring television, your hands clamped over your ears, Sam's patient voice from the corridor. He had learned. Without speaking, he shifted closer, the dry, solid warmth of his hand enveloping yours. The surrounding noise seemed to recede, muted by his presence. He tilted his head, waiting for your eyes to meet his. "I am here," he stated, his voice quiet yet cleaving through the mus…