( he was ... mostly joking about the prayer, but concern crosses his face at this particular revelation. he almost looks offended when cas shoots him that pointed look, because dean obviously wouldn't ever do such a thing (he has, and he probably would have if he hadn't just been told not to). it's becoming clearer that things don't exactly work right in this place. there's something just a little bit off. dean's less convinced they're in the afterlife and more that they're somewhere just sideways of the afterlife. whoever brought them here doesn't want beings like cas at their full power. maybe that's fear. maybe it's just punishment. the jury's still out.
dean follows, moving further into his room, shedding a jacket here, his boots there. he keeps his eyes on cas, watching the path his hands take.
he hasn't let this room feel like his, yet; there's nothing particularly personal about it, but there's something about the way cas moves through the room with an idle sort of reverence, it almost feels like it's become an extension of dean himself just by nature of having cas in it.
they drift away from each other as cas tells dean about his ... outing. about the people that were lost. about his grace.
but then, like a wave to shore, dean returns —
do not go far from me.
(i want to be near you.)
— closes the distance enough to be able to see the deep blue of cas' eyes, the pain of loss creased into the line of his brow. dean understands more than most the burden of guilt, of not being able to protect everyone, no matter how hard you try. he sets a hand on cas' shoulder, firm, reassuring. grounding. )
I'm right here, Cas. Won't get rid of me that easy.
( it sounds like a promise. he'll do his best to keep it. )
no subject
dean follows, moving further into his room, shedding a jacket here, his boots there. he keeps his eyes on cas, watching the path his hands take.
he hasn't let this room feel like his, yet; there's nothing particularly personal about it, but there's something about the way cas moves through the room with an idle sort of reverence, it almost feels like it's become an extension of dean himself just by nature of having cas in it.
they drift away from each other as cas tells dean about his ... outing. about the people that were lost. about his grace.
but then, like a wave to shore, dean returns —
do not go far from me.
(i want to be near you.)
— closes the distance enough to be able to see the deep blue of cas' eyes, the pain of loss creased into the line of his brow. dean understands more than most the burden of guilt, of not being able to protect everyone, no matter how hard you try. he sets a hand on cas' shoulder, firm, reassuring. grounding. )
I'm right here, Cas. Won't get rid of me that easy.
( it sounds like a promise. he'll do his best to keep it. )