When you laugh, he glances up sharply, but his expression relaxes when you confirm you won't tell anyone. You're not laughing at him. Good. You don't get to. You're the one asking for this.
He watches your face when you keep your eyes closed for a while, traces the lines in the corners of your eyes and around your mouth. You look tired, Cas. Tired and too skinny and worn out. Worn thin. You'll fit right in with the ever-diminishing anti-Leviathan team. Not that there is anyone else at this point other than him and Sam. He hopes Sam will accept you being around. He hopes Sam will understand why Dean never told him about your world. Maybe he can ask you not to tell Sam what he did in your world. Sam's struggling with enough shit, he doesn't need even more piled on.
You getting up returns his attention to the present, and he watches you come closer. Takes the bottle from you, his shoulders tensing only a little when you wrap the blanket around both of them and press up against his side. This is just huddling together for warmth. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that. He holds out his mug for more whiskey, drains half of it right after you pour it. Looks down at his hand when you rest yours on top of it and tell him thank you.
"'s all right." He doesn't actually mind it so much. It's weird, being this close to another person. He hasn't done it in a long time, didn't think he'd ever do it again. But you wanted it; you're not going to tease him about it. And you're not going to tell anyone else. He's safe letting you sit close like this. Holding your hand like this, as he turns his own palm-upwards and interlaces his fingers with yours. "'m glad you're here. It's good to see you."
He's missed you very much. He's never really let himself think about how much. Apparently enough to make sitting with you like this more comfortable and soothing than weird.
no subject
He watches your face when you keep your eyes closed for a while, traces the lines in the corners of your eyes and around your mouth. You look tired, Cas. Tired and too skinny and worn out. Worn thin. You'll fit right in with the ever-diminishing anti-Leviathan team. Not that there is anyone else at this point other than him and Sam. He hopes Sam will accept you being around. He hopes Sam will understand why Dean never told him about your world. Maybe he can ask you not to tell Sam what he did in your world. Sam's struggling with enough shit, he doesn't need even more piled on.
You getting up returns his attention to the present, and he watches you come closer. Takes the bottle from you, his shoulders tensing only a little when you wrap the blanket around both of them and press up against his side. This is just huddling together for warmth. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that. He holds out his mug for more whiskey, drains half of it right after you pour it. Looks down at his hand when you rest yours on top of it and tell him thank you.
"'s all right." He doesn't actually mind it so much. It's weird, being this close to another person. He hasn't done it in a long time, didn't think he'd ever do it again. But you wanted it; you're not going to tease him about it. And you're not going to tell anyone else. He's safe letting you sit close like this. Holding your hand like this, as he turns his own palm-upwards and interlaces his fingers with yours. "'m glad you're here. It's good to see you."
He's missed you very much. He's never really let himself think about how much. Apparently enough to make sitting with you like this more comfortable and soothing than weird.