[This isn't the Dean that watched him get swallowed up by The Empty. This isn't even the Dean he left on the other side of a closing portal. Something else happened, he knows Dean, and clingy was something he'd never been. Not with him. There was never any excess of touching, longing, or leering - all those things were most often found in Castiel instead. As bittersweet as it was, Castiel can't help but languish in the touch, the roughness of Dean's palm, and the soft warmth of his very human flesh.
His eyes are a bold green now, distracting from the constellation of freckles that decorated the bridge of his nose. There's something more here, between them, and Castiel isn't sure whether or not it's him, and his desires clouding his judgment.]
Dean, I -
[How long had he been here? What was the last thing that he could remember? What should they do now that they were here together facing down missions and grief all for a "promised," outcome and should they discuss their own arrangements, or not?
Castiel opens his mouth, but the words don't find him. He's got too many questions and not enough answers and it was Dean himself that taught him that those weren't good odds.]
no subject
His eyes are a bold green now, distracting from the constellation of freckles that decorated the bridge of his nose. There's something more here, between them, and Castiel isn't sure whether or not it's him, and his desires clouding his judgment.]
Dean, I -
[How long had he been here? What was the last thing that he could remember? What should they do now that they were here together facing down missions and grief all for a "promised," outcome and should they discuss their own arrangements, or not?
Castiel opens his mouth, but the words don't find him. He's got too many questions and not enough answers and it was Dean himself that taught him that those weren't good odds.]