castiel hates him. He hates that stupid dean winchester.
he hates his stupid cocky smirk. he hates the stupid way his hair sticks up when he takes off his helmet. he hate his stupid eyes, bright even in the shadow of his helmet, greener than the grass of the field.
most of all, he hates his hands; big, strong hands that grip the bat tightly. he hates when dean “adjusts his hold”, sliding his fist down and up the end of the bat in three quick strokes and licking his lips just before castiel throws. he hates the way dean whacks the easy pitch so hard that the ball soars out over the far boundary of the playing field. he hates the smug wink that dean gives him after jogging lightly around the bases.
he hates that it only gets worse once they’re dating, because dean knows how cas loves it when he twists his hand like that, and he knows what it does to cas when he uses those slow, careful strokes. he knows, and he does it on fucking purpose, and castiel hates him.