[ That's the like, crazy part. Cas knows Dean better than he knows any other human being on the planet, and so Dean flirting isn't any surprise, and obviously Cas has been flirting with Dean since shit went sideways and hope left the dancefloor, but Dean flirting back is— ]
Right. The backseat sounds significantly more cozy than the hood.
[ Unreal, basically. Like a dream which, this place is, but still. Mind blowing. Cas looks over at Dean, still smiling but a little bit of confidence lost because this is not how he saw things going, considering... Well, all of him, but all of him, and Dean, and his first night in Dean's shared basement, specifically. He digs his fingers back into the earth, which feels surprisingly real for a dreamworld, and sifts out another clump of grass from the garden bed. He doesn't look up at Dean again just yet, and his voice drops quieter, even though he hasn't seen or heard anyone nearby since Dean's arrival. ]
Dean... About, uh... the other night. I guess, uh...
[ He doesn't want to meet Dean's eyes, afraid of what he could see there: anger, judgement, disgust. A whole range of emotions that cut like knives, but he lifts his chin and forces himself to look at Dean anyway, telling himself that he can take it, that there's always an antidote for any wound, even the incessantly painful, excessively bloody kind. ]
you had introspection and sensory shit and cute assumed cr DONT START
Right. The backseat sounds significantly more cozy than the hood.
[ Unreal, basically. Like a dream which, this place is, but still. Mind blowing. Cas looks over at Dean, still smiling but a little bit of confidence lost because this is not how he saw things going, considering... Well, all of him, but all of him, and Dean, and his first night in Dean's shared basement, specifically. He digs his fingers back into the earth, which feels surprisingly real for a dreamworld, and sifts out another clump of grass from the garden bed. He doesn't look up at Dean again just yet, and his voice drops quieter, even though he hasn't seen or heard anyone nearby since Dean's arrival. ]
Dean... About, uh... the other night. I guess, uh...
[ He doesn't want to meet Dean's eyes, afraid of what he could see there: anger, judgement, disgust. A whole range of emotions that cut like knives, but he lifts his chin and forces himself to look at Dean anyway, telling himself that he can take it, that there's always an antidote for any wound, even the incessantly painful, excessively bloody kind. ]
I guess I just wanted to know why.