[He's heard couchland is a fantastic place, full of naps and not moving. Dean's a fan of both of these things, especially if Cas melts right along with him. The poof of fur on his legs that calls itself a dog is only the icing on the cake. The couch cake.
He hums low in his throat, thumb still working a steady rhythm that he's hoping comes across as absent. It isn't though. Touching Cas like this is still new, and it's still awesome, and it still makes his chest do things that he isn't going to admit to. He's pathetic. He's willing to admit it to his own internal monologue, if not out loud.]
Oh, good. You figured out the secret. Guess we better lock the doors so Hollywood doesn't have you snuffed out. Or rubbed out. Rubbed on? Eh.
[He shrugs a shoulder, makes a noncommittal noise, and doesn't open his eyes.]
Whatever they do to roosters in crappy Alice in Chains songs.
[This is nice. This is beyond nice. This is freakishly nice, and those fingers on his shoulder blade... yeah. He's... happy. Ain't that a freakin' miracle?]
May or may not be rereading amazing threads from two months ago what
He hums low in his throat, thumb still working a steady rhythm that he's hoping comes across as absent. It isn't though. Touching Cas like this is still new, and it's still awesome, and it still makes his chest do things that he isn't going to admit to. He's pathetic. He's willing to admit it to his own internal monologue, if not out loud.]
Oh, good. You figured out the secret. Guess we better lock the doors so Hollywood doesn't have you snuffed out. Or rubbed out. Rubbed on? Eh.
[He shrugs a shoulder, makes a noncommittal noise, and doesn't open his eyes.]
Whatever they do to roosters in crappy Alice in Chains songs.
[This is nice. This is beyond nice. This is freakishly nice, and those fingers on his shoulder blade... yeah. He's... happy. Ain't that a freakin' miracle?]