Fire

Warning: Pre-Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Supernatural or Harry Potter.

Pairing: Pre-Castiel/Harry

Notes: Harry is 19, the war is over. Some spoilers in that Dean is out of hell(?)

Word Count: 503(only actual Drabble)

Fire

A soft sigh could be heard from the living room as Harry's continued to stitch up Castiel's trench coat, yawning widely after a moment and wincing as he checked the clock which read one-fifty-eight in glowing red numbers. Yawning again, Harry returned to the angel's coat, wanting to finish fixing it before he went to bed. With a few more stitches, Harry quickly clipped and tied the thread before holding the long coat out in front of him, inspecting it critically.

The black smudges and ash from the fire from eailer that day were gone, and the blood completely removed from any of the spots it had previously covered. Any rips and tears had been painstakingly sewn back together, and looking at it from the outside, the seams of the closed tears could barely be seen. Harry had even fixed the buttons so the thing was damn near perfect.

Satisfied with his work, Harry stood, wincing as his back cracked from sitting in one spot too long. Carefully folding the bundle of clothes in his arms, Harry placed it gently on the kitchenette table, readying himself for a night in a cheap hotel bed before he got up, in what he knew would be at least six or seven to a cup of heavily watered down, not quite coffee, coffee.

Stretching as he slid into the bedroom, and making sure not to mess up his salt circle, Harry missed the eyes that watched him the entire way before moving back to trench coat that lay innocently on the table.

-

-

"What the hell!" Dean demanded, staring at Castiel who adorned his almost-perfect trench coat with his usual blank expression, "Who the hell fixed that!?"

Frowning in confusion, Sam eyed the angel's coat curiously.

"Really, Cas, who keeps fixing your coat?" Sam asked, circling him slightly to look for any imperfection, but found none.

Rolling his eyes at the scene that greeted him, Harry poured himself a mug of cheap, watered coffee, wincing at the battered taste before taking a seat and snatching one of the doughnuts Sam had gotten for breakfast.

"What does it matter? It's just a damn coat," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes at the scene and scarfing down a few more doughnuts.

"But I swear I didn't hear anyone come in...it's like you have little elves doing the work for you," Sam muttered to himself before wincing when he spotted Dean's grin.

"'Course it ain't little elves, Sammy! It's the unicorns," Dean smirked, snickering at his little brother as they inevitably began a half-hearted, half-teasing fight.

"Thank-you."

Pausing, Harry looked up in brief confusion to see Castiel staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"For what?" Harry frowned, feigning ignorance.

"My coat. Thank-you for fixing it," Castiel stated simply before turning away before Harry could deny it.

Shrugging a little, Harry took another bite of his breakfast, deciding he wouldn't even try to figure out the apathetic angel. And, truthfully, he didn't even know why he did it himself.