[ dean tenses some when castiel comes in, but only casts a quick look at the other man before turning back to himself. it's been... a week now, but dean hasn't brought up what happened on the night they made up, hasn't tried to do anything else about it. it's been good like this, no fighting, no arguing and no secrets... it's what dean had wanted, and he doesn't want to ruin it.
he's shrugging half out of his jacket, one sleeve still in place where it's plastered around the torn skin, matted with dirt and blood. he scoffs an amused, quiet sound. ]
no subject
he's shrugging half out of his jacket, one sleeve still in place where it's plastered around the torn skin, matted with dirt and blood. he scoffs an amused, quiet sound. ]
Talking to cultists.
[ fucking sam and his fucking plan. ]
It went well.