( I won't if you won't. That's a hell of a deal, isn't it? Of course there's a flair-up in him that wants to protest, a two-second gut instinct that says it's different and he deserves-- that Dean has to white-knuckle and shove down. If they're making a deal here, they're making a deal. He's so, so friggin tired. It has to stop somewhere, sometime. Why not.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even nod, but the shape of his mouth pulling into an unhappy, reluctant line is about as close to agreement as Cas is likely to get here in this olive vegetable garden.
And then Cas goes from Titanic to Brokeback Mountain in the span of a second, pulling Dean around to the side in a way that gets him instinctively grounding in through the heels. It's on his lips to say woah, now, not on a first date--
But the question wipes away his words. If he could go five minutes without being thrown for a loop today, that would be fan-freaking-tastic. The prickling awareness he's got of that weird ethereal space behind his shoulder blades makes them twitch in a way he can't even really feel exactly, and when he twists back it's to look at Cas like he's the one with new appendages. Sprouting from his neck, maybe breathing fire.
He's not a stupid man. His gut starts to sink because it knows what that means, even if his head's stubbornly refusing to process it outright. )
Yeah, but you knew that already. Because of New Amsterdam.
( Said slowly and firmly, as though spelling it out might, through sheer force of will, stick the memory in his head. )
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He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even nod, but the shape of his mouth pulling into an unhappy, reluctant line is about as close to agreement as Cas is likely to get here in this
olivevegetable garden.And then Cas goes from Titanic to Brokeback Mountain in the span of a second, pulling Dean around to the side in a way that gets him instinctively grounding in through the heels. It's on his lips to say woah, now, not on a first date--
But the question wipes away his words. If he could go five minutes without being thrown for a loop today, that would be fan-freaking-tastic. The prickling awareness he's got of that weird ethereal space behind his shoulder blades makes them twitch in a way he can't even really feel exactly, and when he twists back it's to look at Cas like he's the one with new appendages. Sprouting from his neck, maybe breathing fire.
He's not a stupid man. His gut starts to sink because it knows what that means, even if his head's stubbornly refusing to process it outright. )
Yeah, but you knew that already. Because of New Amsterdam.
( Said slowly and firmly, as though spelling it out might, through sheer force of will, stick the memory in his head. )