rodiniaorzetalthepenquin:

The apartment at the end of the hall was both comfort and torment for Castiel Vienatve. No, Castiel thought to himself, that was imprecise, because the apartment itself was immaterial. It was the man who lived in the apartment who caused both comfort and torment in the introverted, socially awkward former pilot.

Comfort, he felt, because the man was an angel. Well, probably not a literal angel, as years of involuntary Catholicism had left him with the impression of angels as divine automatons, following God’s will without thought or motivation of their own. But if true angels existed in the world, made of the love God felt for all of his children, then surely Sam Winchester must be one of them. He was kind, always having a friendly smile and a helping hand for any of his neighbors, Castiel included. He was gentle despite his greater height and broad, strong shoulders, treating children and animals kindly without being condescending and always considerate of physical or verbal cues for personal space.

And he was agonizingly, infuriatingly gorgeous, whether pressed into a three-piece suit and tie, or sweat-slicked in shorts and a singlet from his morning run, or even wearing muddy jeans and ragged flannel with his hair full of leaves and brambles. It was the last that caught and held Castiel’s attention now, blue eyes wide as he stared at the approaching figure which looked very much like he had been rolled down a muddy embankment and into a blackberry thicket. And then Sam looked up, and Castiel was treated to the sight of that weary countenance melting into a sheepish smile that showed dimples beneath the dirt and stubble.

Unfair! shouted his brain.

Please? whispered his heart.

What actually came out of his mouth was, “That must have been quite a trip.”

If Castiel had thought that bashful smile full of dimples was unfair, it was nothing compared to the full on beaming grin that spread across Sam’s face in answer to his words. He very nearly swallowed his tongue when Sam laughed, the sound bubbling up like some sort of fountain made of joy and sound, and oh, God above, there was no way this man could still be mortal and also be real.

“Yeah, things kinda went sideways on us,” Sam was saying as Castiel wrestled his brain and heart back under control. “The good news is, the horse survived. The bad news is, Uncle Bobby’s old truck didn’t.” While Castiel was trying to figure out what a horse had to do with anything, no matter how glad he was that it had apparently survived its recent ordeal, Sam shoved a hand back through his hair and grimaced. “Not sure my hair survived, either.”

“Need some help with that?”

The surprise that crossed Sam’s face coincided with the realization that Castiel had said that out loud. Castiel cringed internally as he felt the all too familiar heat suffusing his face the way it so often did around Sam. He floundered, casting around desperately in his unhelpful brain for something to say that would make the situation less awkward, when Sam surprised him yet again with a new kind of smile, one that looked to Castiel to be some sort of cross between hopeful and pleased.

“Really?” he asked. Castiel could almost swear the man had sprouted puppy ears and a wagging tail to go with those eyes. “I mean, I was just going to try and wash as much off in the shower as possible and hope the barber wouldn’t have to cut too much off tomorrow, but if you’re serious–”

“I’m completely serious,” Castiel found himself breaking in, and he meant it. It would be a crime to see that normally soft mane of chestnut hair chopped short because of a few brambles. That, however, was probably not something he should admit to Sam’s face, and so he added, “And I would not mind hearing more about the predicament of the horse and how you came to its rescue.”

“I guess it’s only fair to tell you why you’re probably going to be pulling half a blackberry patch out of my hair,” Sam said with a return of that dimpled grin that made Castiel’s knees feel significantly less solid. He glanced at the sealed envelopes still clutched, forgotten, in Castiel’s hand, and asked, “Do you have time now, or were you on your way out?”

“Just got back,” Castiel lied, lifting the post that could honestly wait another few hours before they had to be in the post box for the carrier to pick up. “Just let me toss these on the table and hang up my jacket and I’ll be right there. Three-oh-seven?”

“Three-oh-seven,” Sam confirmed with a nod as he turned to head down the hall. Casting another bright grin over his shoulder, he added, “I’ll be waiting!”

Castiel felt that he could be forgiven for just dropping the post on the table and flinging his jacket across the nearest chair in his haste to get out of his apartment so as not to keep Sam waiting for long.

Just this once.

 Cas messing with Sam’s hair is one of the CUTEST THINGS EVER.  Thank you so much for this lovely pining fluff with a whiff of reverse!verse! ❤