[ castiel’s gaze could burn a hole in dean’s skin, if it were at all possible, but apparently god didn’t want his angels to have laser vision while making the blueprints. as it is, cas is already standing close to the hunter, just by the foot of his bed. ]
[ he looks back and forth between dean and the sleeping form of his brother in the next bed over, and lowers his voice so he doesn’t wake him up. the angel steps forward and presses two fingers to dean’s forehead, pushing his grace through his body to relieve him of the kinks in his back, then backs away. ]
Would you like me to go? I have other things I could be doing instead.
[ cas tries to be nice, comes when they call, caters to their every goddamn request, and this is what he gets. ‘stop hitting on me.’ ]
« ———— ├ ᗪ ╰☆╮ ᙡ ┤———— »
( he can’t help the grimace that strikes his face when he nests the
frozen cup between his hands. at this rate, he can only imagine
what the bitter, dark beverage it cages must taste like. he can’t
afford complaining, but in early apocalypse mornings, he might
feel the need for a coffee that’s not two days old & glacial.
he just raises the cup towards his lips when he finds himself with
the seraph popped before his eyes, in an abrupt crane of his hand
which dean’s instincts nearly repent in a failed attempt at a dodge.
at least his back doesn’t dagger him anymore. )
‘ … geez, the whole reason why you’re ‘ere
is 'cause you’ve gotta tell us – in this case, ME
somethin’, so jus’ get it over with so you can go
back to those better things to do an’ i to my shitty
expired coffee. ’