He knows how. How what? How to get it right? You lean in, slow enough so he can watch you. He lets his eyes slide half-closed when you press your lips to his, tightens his hand in return when he feels your fingers squeeze his. You still taste like you did a few minutes ago. You still make his heart beat in his throat, make him want to pull you closer.

He doesn't. Instead, he raises his other hand, brushes his fingers against your knee, trails them along the lines of your leg and thigh as he briefly meets your eyes. You seem upset all of a sudden. He's not sure why, until you tell him. You miss him. That doesn't make a whole lot of sense for you to say right now, except he understands. He misses you, too.

He slides his hand up over your back until he can cup the back of your neck. Rubs your skin there with his thumb, then turns his head just enough so he can press a kiss to your cheek, just below your ear. He leaves his mouth cupped against you, warm breath condensing against your skin. "I'm right here, Cas." Low, quiet. "Right here."

And so are you. Don't go away.