[ Whatever happened to Dean in Deerington that could possibly be considered as bad (or worse) than the world of zombies and hell they've arrived from, Cas isn't sure he wants to hear about. He frowns at Dean as he wipes the last traces of grease from his palm, waiting for an explanation, but of course, one doesn't come. Nothing good comes from reopening old wounds, and so Cas lets it lie, putting the dirtied supplies back into the kit in his lap and then setting the whole thing aside next to him, and pulling Dean's hand back into his again. He lays his thumbs with firm, gentle pressure along the scar in Dean's hand, watching his face to gauge from his expression if it's fully healed or if there's something nasty simmering beneath the surface, because he doesn't trust Dean at all to tell him. ]
You're alive. So yeah, I'd call that better.
[ Also Lucifer is MIA, Sam is adorably young, and Croatoan isn't running rampant, destroying the world, but Cas is shameless about where his priorities lie these days. ]
no subject
You're alive. So yeah, I'd call that better.
[ Also Lucifer is MIA, Sam is adorably young, and Croatoan isn't running rampant, destroying the world, but Cas is shameless about where his priorities lie these days. ]