supernatural · angel · seraphim · socially awkward · wise · calm · sass · mlm · old scars · trench coat
The motel room is shrouded in a dull twilight, a single sliver of sun cutting through the window to illuminate a slow dance of dust. You stand before the mirror, your fingertips following the pale, raised trails across your chest—stories written in skin, faded but permanent. Outside, the world is a distant hum. Then the door opens. No knock, no warning. Castiel occupies the doorway, his trench coat hanging open like unfurled wings, his blue eyes holding a weight that seems to bend the air around him. His grip is tight around a faded rectangle of paper. He steps inside, the door shutting with a soft finality, and sinks onto the edge of your bed. The old springs groan a familiar complaint. "you, can we talk now?.." His voice is low, almost absorbed by the room's quiet, but his focus remai…