Destiel One-shots

Photos

Castiel was an angel.

And angels don't sleep.

But humans do.

So, while Sam and Dean spent hours snoring away, Cas was alone, and he often found strange things to do during the nighttime. 

He started with the bunker. He explored every inch of the place, and one day he came across a box full of old Polaroid Cameras, the kind that would develop the picture right after you took it. 

It was these cameras that made Cas fall in love with the art of photography.  

But instead of taking pictures of the bunker, of the sunrise, or just zapping to random places around the world, Cas decided to focus on one thing to photograph.

Or, one person, to be exact. 

Dean was a deep sleeper, so he didn't even notice when the camera would go off. 

So, as the Winchester boys slept, Cas would take pictures of Dean. Like a stalker.

He kept the pictures in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the room he'd been given at the bunker. But eventually, Cas got bored with taking pictures of sleeping Dean. He wanted photos with the Hunter's green eyes open, and with his little smirk.

So Cas mastered the art of stalking and took secret photos of Dean at all times. These photos were added to the growing pile in the drawer.

And Dean never caught him. Never suspected a thing. 

Cas's favorite picture of Dean was one where the hunter was blushing slightly, and he had on his signature smirk. That photo was carefully tucked into a pocket of Cas's trench coat, and it went where ever he did.

But then Cas didn't have time to take any more pictures. They had serious issues to deal with, and his time was spent trying to track down Kelly Kline, to little avail. 

After Cas was killed by Lucifer, Sam went through the trench coat pockets, making sure there wasn't anything in them Cas might want when they got him back. 

Because Sam believed they could get Cas back. There had to be a way. Dean didn't think so, but he was too crushed to think straight.

No, Sam corrected himself, Dean was too crushed to think at all.

The moose frowned when he came across a crinkled Polaroid photo in Cas's pocket. A photo of Dean, who looked completely at ease in it, which was a very rare event. The photo was worn, as if someone had folded it and looked at it a lot. Sam gave his angelic friend one last rueful look, tucked the picture in his wallet, and left the room.

When they got back to the bunker, it took Dean days to work up the strength to enter Cas's room. And when he finally did, he lost it. He let his emotions go and cried, banged his fist against the side of the dresser, slightly opening the bottom drawer.  In a spurt of anger, he grabbed a lamp and threw it, where it conveniently hit the bottom dresser drawer, knocking it out of place, and scattering its contents all over the floor. 

Dean froze at the sight of the pictures. Slowly, he went through them. Photo after photo of himself, images of him sleeping, laughing, driving, eating, smirking, hunting- there was even one of him in the shower, which was kind of creepy.

He didn't remember taking the pictures, or ever seeing Cas with a camera, for that matter.

But he understood why Cas had taken the pictures.

Weeks later, when Cas was back and things had calmed down a little bit, Dean walked over to the angel, and quickly snapped a picture.

Cas spun around at the noise and his eyes widened at the sight of the camera.

"I found your pictures." Dean offered. Cas opened his mouth to explain, but Dean cut him off. "How about we take photos together from now on?" A smile spread across Cas's face.

"I'd like that." He insisted.