[ It's entirely possible Dean is dying. He's been down here days, bullet holes untreated and covered in dirty bandages, scared and alone and developing a fever, wounds hot and angry and red. ]
I'm thinking, [ He starts, ignoring Castiel's question in turn, lifting his head when Cas moves, ] about your mouth. Those lips, man. Wow
[ He turns his glassy gaze on Cas, bright, feverish, fixed entirely on Cas and Cas alone. He's pretty, Dean decides. He's pretty in an unusual, unique kind of way that Dean appreciates. Bright blue eyes that see right into Dean's soul, pink lipped mouth, a good jaw.
He lifts his hand to press his index finger to Cas' cheek, dragging it over stubble, before swiping over his lips. ]
no subject
I'm thinking, [ He starts, ignoring Castiel's question in turn, lifting his head when Cas moves, ] about your mouth. Those lips, man. Wow
[ He turns his glassy gaze on Cas, bright, feverish, fixed entirely on Cas and Cas alone. He's pretty, Dean decides. He's pretty in an unusual, unique kind of way that Dean appreciates. Bright blue eyes that see right into Dean's soul, pink lipped mouth, a good jaw.
He lifts his hand to press his index finger to Cas' cheek, dragging it over stubble, before swiping over his lips. ]
I wanna taste 'em.