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It is not exceptional for an angel to watch a human unobserved. Far from it. It is something of a standard reference: that humans act and angels watch. This is the way things have been since their creation and nothing that has happened in recent history has caused there to be a shift in that dynamic. So, in all ordinary senses, there is nothing remarkable about what is currently occurring. Or at least there wouldn't be if it were any other angel watching any other human. But it wasn’t and Castiel had long since given up on trying to deceive himself into believing that there was anything remotely ordinary about his interaction with or interest in Dean Winchester.
This evening started out innocently enough. Cas needed information. Dean was the most likely person he could get it from. It took a little longer than normal to find Dean, as Bobby wasn’t answering his phone and Sam was off doing whatever Sam did when he was in one of his moods. Eventually, however, Cas was able to locate him. But when he had materialized Dean was having one of his “personal moments.”
Not wanting to be shouted at for the next twenty minutes, Cas instantly went into observation mode instead of leaving. He told himself it was because he really did need to talk to Dean, but now Cas can admit that it was less about the importance of his mission and more about the way Dean looked with his eyes half lidded and his hand rubbing absently across his bare stomach.
Cas knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this. He knew it in the very essence of his being, the same way he knew that his Father never left him. But that knowledge didn't change the fact that he was still there, watching as Dean's hand slipped lower and his eyes fluttered closed.
Dean bit his lip and moaned, his hips lifting as his hand dipped below the green band of his boxers. Cas took an involuntary step closer as Dean’s breathing went ragged. He let out a little gasp of pleasure that sent chills down Cas's spine. Then Cas heard it: his name from Dean's lips. Though he is well aware that what he was doing was completely beyond the pale, Cas didn't hesitate to slip through the thin veil that sheltered Dean's mind.
Dean's mind has always been a tumultuous, confusing mess. No matter how many times Cas entered it, he never seemed to be able to get a better understand of what made the man who he was.
Right then, for example, Dean’s thoughts were being pulled in five different directions. There was a steady stream of pleasure: so good, just like that, want it so bad,. Which, given the situation, was not surprising. Then there was a strain of desire: his lips, I bet they would feel soft and rough at the same time 'cause he never uses Chapstick and god, I want them on me and his hands, I love his hands, I bet they would feel ten times better than my hand does right now. Also not surprising.
And, of course, there was the actual fantasy itself, a big rush of lust: I'm on my knees, my face pressed hard into the mattress, hands cuffed to the headboard and he's behind me, pushing me down as he pushes into me, hard, wanting it just as bad as I do, making me beg, which inspired a similar response in Cas. Made him ache with longing, filled with a need to do just that, right now, right here, damn the consequences.
Then there was a hint of something else, despair: but it would never work, he's a god damn angel and I'm just a man and hell, could this possibly be any more wrong than it is, he's a god damn angel.
Still, that was nothing to the thread the one the burned brightest. Unlike the other, this one had no distinct words, no half-formed thoughts to transition it from subconscious to conscious thought. Instead it was a confused mix of raw, almost painful emotion: love/want/need/love.
And that thread, that was the one that sent Cas crashing back into his vessel. Back to a heart that was pounding out of control, and a body that was reacting in the most visceral way to the images he had seen in Dean’s mind.
In that moment, Cas finally understood why angels fall. Because although they can identify the emotions, they can't feel them. Not in the way that a human can. Cas was intrigued by Dean, fascinated even. Every time he saw him, Cas felt even more captivated, wanting to know what caused the disconnect between the motives etched in Dean's soul and the actions Dean takes. Cas studied him the way humans study the animals that co-exist with them on this planet: deeply riveted, yes, but dispassionately so.
Cas does not love. Cas does not desire. Cas does not lust. Cas does not despair. Cas does not seek out pleasure, not in the way that Dean does. Cas is an Angel of the Lord and as such is immune to human weaknesses. But standing there, invisible to Dean’s human eyes, watching as Dean’s human hands stroke himself to a climax, knowing that Dean’s human mind is filled with thoughts of him, Cas found himself wishing he wasn’t quite so immune.