Talk to your buddies about that.

[ Because Dean would choose a big ol cabin. Something overlooking water, maybe. A home with a deck, those big wind up umbrellas to help with the shade, maybe some twinkle lights. A long dock, maybe a fishing boat. He's been daydreaming about it, so he doesn't go fucking apeshit down here alone in the dark.

Maybe he's already losing his mind, because he's sitting here holding Cas' hand, afraid to let him go, looking over at him like he's Jesus or something.

He sure does have nice lips. Big and plush and pillowy.

Did Jesus have nice lips? Hm. Something else to ponder in his delusion, maybe. He probably did, he would've been middle eastern, so why wouldn't he? Beard too, maybe.

He's torn from his sexualization of Jesus by the prospect of being walked like a dog, and he snorts a laugh, rolling his head to look at Cas proper, before letting it fall to rest on his shoulder. He's so tired, shivery in his skin, hot and cold. ]

I bet you do. I'll bet you anything if you asked that exact question, they'd let you. If it got me outta here, I'd let you.