[ Dean shifts to a seated position, mindful of his precious little sprouts, smoothing his hands on faded, worn denim. He had a feeling this chat was coming, and he'd been avoiding it, kind of, because that night feels surreal and like a dream and Dean was never super great at talking about his emotions to begin with and now it's even worse.
But they do need to talk about it.
The question confuses him, though - and he tips his head, meeting Cas' eyes, brow pinched as he tries to formulate a reply, but all he comes up with is: ]
fine fine fine I GUESS
But they do need to talk about it.
The question confuses him, though - and he tips his head, meeting Cas' eyes, brow pinched as he tries to formulate a reply, but all he comes up with is: ]
What do you mean, why?