“Do you always understand everything you feel?” Cas asked, one day.
He thought, obscurely, that Spring was the right time for a question like this; or at least this Spring was - a Spring that felt fresh and light and hazy, still dazed by the wonder of Winter’s passing. Dean, sitting in the car beside him, looked washed out by it - or rather, washed clean, Cas supposed he meant. Softened, in any case.
“How d’you mean?” Dean said. He turned to Cas, the bright sun shrinking out the darkness in his eyes - turning them green. Green like go-lights, green like mazes - no, gentler than both of those; green like the water-full leaves of succulent plants. Green like book covers, like peppermint-flavour candies.
“I mean… do you ever feel something that you can’t explain? Something… ineffable?”
Dean pressed his lips together. Cas wondered if he needed to explain the word ‘ineffable’.
“Nah?” he said. “I guess most of what I feel, I know what to call it. I don’t always like it, but at least I know what it is.”
Cas nodded seriously. Dean let the silence rest for a while as they cruised down the Spring-morning road.
“What about you?” he said eventually.
Cas lifted a shoulder.
“I… have a thousand words for how things feel,” he said, “and a thousand things to feel within me. But I… I cannot make them match.”