How Deep Is the Red?
4
When Harper’s eyes opened at four in the afternoon, she wondered if everything hadn’t just been a dream.
Just in case, she gave herself a look-over in the mirror. It felt odd having someone in her house she felt she needed to impress, odd that there was someone else in her house at all, actually.
She brushed her hair and thumbed the sleep from the corners of her blue eyes. Though it almost pained her, she decided against make up. She felt like it might be a bit of an overkill to go to that much trouble.
Feeling decent enough, Harper made her way to the living room, dreading that Castiel may’ve left while she’d been sleeping. She was surprised by the amount of relief that washed over her when she saw Castiel spread comically all over the small mattress, snoring.
Harper grinned to herself, moving quietly the kitchen, planning to make breakfast for dinner. Much to her dismay, Harper found her kitchen didn’t have much to offer aside from an appealing box of brownie mix. She shrugged, putting on a pot of coffee.
Stirring the mix and humming, she enjoyed the smell of Columbian beans and chocolate bleeding together. When the batter was baking, she poured herself a cup of coffee and switched on the small radio on the counter to a news station. Harper nearly choked on her swig of coffee when the deep-voiced news reporter mentioned the street Bernie’s Diner was on.
“Police reported to the area to investigate how the area had suffered over $9,000 dollars in damage to the asphalt and nearly 30 busted streetlights. The police reasoned that the damage could be chalked up to trouble-making kids out past curfew. What couldn’t be explained was the hundreds of dead red crossbill finches that littered the area. About ten birds had been taken in by the veterinary clinic to study, but a sensible cause of death couldn’t be determined.”
Harper was rubbing the goose bumps from her arms when the oven timer buzzed, scaring her half to death. She set her cup down and slipped on an oven mitt. Once she’d switched the oven off, she turned to see Cas in the door jam, nose slightly upturned, breathing the air in.
“Good morning,” she greeted, slipping the mitt off and sitting at the table.
“It isn’t morning,” his voice was still thick with sleep. “What’s that,” he nodded to the cooling pan.
“Brownies- want one?”
He squinted his eyes, and Harper wondered if he was actually observing them from ten feet away.
Harper took a warm gulp and said over the coffee mug with a grin, “I promise I didn’t poison them.”
Castiel turned his gaze to her, head canted. His hair was cowlicked in every direction, the black of it a shocking contrast to his pale skin. The Guns N’ Roses shirt was hiked up a little on the right, exposing a peek of hip. Harper laughed a little- he was adorable.
“I am… hungry,” Cas mused.
Harper cut him a piece, handing it to him on a small saucer with a fork. It almost looked like he’d never used a fork before, the way he was clenching it in a tight fist, pushing a hunk of chocolate into his mouth.
Castiel closed his eyes, fork frozen just outside of his mouth. He moaned a little, running a tongue over his full lips. “These are... amazing.”
Harper laughed once, thanking him and tucking into one herself. Once he inhaled what was on his plate, he set the saucer on the table and motioned to Harper’s cup of coffee. “May I have some of that?”
“Help yourself,” she hooked a thumb to the pot of coffee behind her. “The cups are in the dish strainer, sugar’s in the largest canister by the stove, if you take it.”
Castiel clumsily poured himself a coffee, ignoring the invitation for sugar. Harper’s eyes were on him as he swigged from it, only to spit it right back out. “That’s disgusting, how are you drinking it?”
Harper squinted at him. “It’s just coffee.”
“Well, it’s awful.”
“Castiel, can I ask you something?”
“Yes,” he sat across from her at the small table, pushing his coffee away to lessen the smell.
“What happened last night?”
Castiel went white, lips back into a stubborn pucker. “You… wouldn’t believe me.”
“Cas, the lights blew out and you fell from nowhere. I think I’m kind of inclined to believe anything.”
His eyes were glued to the table top; he was deadest on keeping his mouth shut. His resistance made Harper want to persist, even if that meant being pushy.
“Cas… please?”
He swallowed, eyes daring, seeming to catalog the scratches and water rings across the wood around the lacy place mat in front of him.
“I fell.” He sounded like he was hoping with everything in him she didn’t need him to elaborate.
“I got that much, but from what?”
He raised his eyes to hers; they were red around the rims, the deep blue was bouncing around the white as they read her face.
“A plane, a blimp…a UFO?!”
“Heaven,” he breathed quickly.
Harper stopped, eyebrows raising to her hairline. “…pardon?”
Just in case, she gave herself a look-over in the mirror. It felt odd having someone in her house she felt she needed to impress, odd that there was someone else in her house at all, actually.
She brushed her hair and thumbed the sleep from the corners of her blue eyes. Though it almost pained her, she decided against make up. She felt like it might be a bit of an overkill to go to that much trouble.
Feeling decent enough, Harper made her way to the living room, dreading that Castiel may’ve left while she’d been sleeping. She was surprised by the amount of relief that washed over her when she saw Castiel spread comically all over the small mattress, snoring.
Harper grinned to herself, moving quietly the kitchen, planning to make breakfast for dinner. Much to her dismay, Harper found her kitchen didn’t have much to offer aside from an appealing box of brownie mix. She shrugged, putting on a pot of coffee.
Stirring the mix and humming, she enjoyed the smell of Columbian beans and chocolate bleeding together. When the batter was baking, she poured herself a cup of coffee and switched on the small radio on the counter to a news station. Harper nearly choked on her swig of coffee when the deep-voiced news reporter mentioned the street Bernie’s Diner was on.
“Police reported to the area to investigate how the area had suffered over $9,000 dollars in damage to the asphalt and nearly 30 busted streetlights. The police reasoned that the damage could be chalked up to trouble-making kids out past curfew. What couldn’t be explained was the hundreds of dead red crossbill finches that littered the area. About ten birds had been taken in by the veterinary clinic to study, but a sensible cause of death couldn’t be determined.”
Harper was rubbing the goose bumps from her arms when the oven timer buzzed, scaring her half to death. She set her cup down and slipped on an oven mitt. Once she’d switched the oven off, she turned to see Cas in the door jam, nose slightly upturned, breathing the air in.
“Good morning,” she greeted, slipping the mitt off and sitting at the table.
“It isn’t morning,” his voice was still thick with sleep. “What’s that,” he nodded to the cooling pan.
“Brownies- want one?”
He squinted his eyes, and Harper wondered if he was actually observing them from ten feet away.
Harper took a warm gulp and said over the coffee mug with a grin, “I promise I didn’t poison them.”
Castiel turned his gaze to her, head canted. His hair was cowlicked in every direction, the black of it a shocking contrast to his pale skin. The Guns N’ Roses shirt was hiked up a little on the right, exposing a peek of hip. Harper laughed a little- he was adorable.
“I am… hungry,” Cas mused.
Harper cut him a piece, handing it to him on a small saucer with a fork. It almost looked like he’d never used a fork before, the way he was clenching it in a tight fist, pushing a hunk of chocolate into his mouth.
Castiel closed his eyes, fork frozen just outside of his mouth. He moaned a little, running a tongue over his full lips. “These are... amazing.”
Harper laughed once, thanking him and tucking into one herself. Once he inhaled what was on his plate, he set the saucer on the table and motioned to Harper’s cup of coffee. “May I have some of that?”
“Help yourself,” she hooked a thumb to the pot of coffee behind her. “The cups are in the dish strainer, sugar’s in the largest canister by the stove, if you take it.”
Castiel clumsily poured himself a coffee, ignoring the invitation for sugar. Harper’s eyes were on him as he swigged from it, only to spit it right back out. “That’s disgusting, how are you drinking it?”
Harper squinted at him. “It’s just coffee.”
“Well, it’s awful.”
“Castiel, can I ask you something?”
“Yes,” he sat across from her at the small table, pushing his coffee away to lessen the smell.
“What happened last night?”
Castiel went white, lips back into a stubborn pucker. “You… wouldn’t believe me.”
“Cas, the lights blew out and you fell from nowhere. I think I’m kind of inclined to believe anything.”
His eyes were glued to the table top; he was deadest on keeping his mouth shut. His resistance made Harper want to persist, even if that meant being pushy.
“Cas… please?”
He swallowed, eyes daring, seeming to catalog the scratches and water rings across the wood around the lacy place mat in front of him.
“I fell.” He sounded like he was hoping with everything in him she didn’t need him to elaborate.
“I got that much, but from what?”
He raised his eyes to hers; they were red around the rims, the deep blue was bouncing around the white as they read her face.
“A plane, a blimp…a UFO?!”
“Heaven,” he breathed quickly.
Harper stopped, eyebrows raising to her hairline. “…pardon?”