#featuring: cain (murderdeals)

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme town, population so many || zoooom!

"Yeah, I remember when I was like you. Young, dumb, full of… conflicting emotions." Cain

"you say conflicting emotions. i say.. welcome to wrestlemania three hunderd twenty two!! for our first match? in one corner we got avoiding talking about that last part all together. in the other? i'm matching your young and dumb with old and dusty!"

[safetypinned]

@murderdeals || 'it should've been me' prompts || accepting!

" you did what you could. " Cain

"did i..?" sam folds the corner of the label he's peeled back on the beer bottle then pushes the gluey, sticky paper back in place. folds it again. rinse and repeat. gaze flicks up to meet his from where he's leaning against the back of a chair sitting on cain's front porch. there's a gnawing in the pit of sam's stomach. everpresent now. where it used to wax and wane with how much time between one tragedy after another they were given. that heaviness is settling in again. like it did. years ago. digging its claws in and refusing to let go; doubt. especially self-doubt? is one hell of a battle to fight. sometimes. he thinks about just letting himself lose.

maybe that's why he showed up here. alone. seeking.. well.. maybe someone to drag him back to earth. out of his head. where his worst enemies always lie in wait.

"i'm not so sure. ever have that feeling that there's something more you should've done? something more that you could've done? where you're not even sure what it's about. where you could've zigged when you zagged. it's just there. all the time. and i can't get rid of it.."

[lasthymn]

@murderdeals || send "you're not what i expected..." for my muse's reaction || accepting!

sunshine illuminates their faces. his arms feel the heat grazing over his skin. he loves the sensation of being out in the open air. underneath the sky. dots of clouds here and there. white, puffy fluffs that occasionally pass by the sun and provide a glimpse of shade before moving on. the air is clean here. not like in the towns or cities that he visits alone. or with his family. there's peace in the solitude and distances out here on cain's farm.

castiel told him about this place before they came here. more than once. he's heard stories about cain. about his creatures. and vegetables. about his bee farm that castiel loves and adores. about the chickens and goats. how the trees are high and alive and stand proud inside fertile soil that's tended to with meticulous care. he was so excited when cas asked him if he wanted to come along on this visit. he said yes in a dozen nods before he could get the word out.

jack is barefoot as he walks along the dirt road cutting through the horse pasture. careful not to step in anything he might not appreciate being stuck between his toes. he can't seem to take his eyes off of a mare that's caught his attention. there's a look of utter adoration on his face for the creature. castiel allowed him some time alone with cain. to get to know him better. and this was only the beginning of their conversation.

'you're not what i expected.' this is not the first time jack has heard this. he doesn't mind being told he's something different than what people originally thought about him. there's yet to be a bad experience along with the words. the mare is now within arms reach. after meeting his eyes for a while, the pair seemed to exchange some sort of conversation that brought jack to a stop. one hand reaches out. fingers touch along her velvet nose. he grins from ear to ear. "tell me, cain. what did you think of me? i wish i could say the same. but castiel has spoken so warmly of you. i can see where he forms the opinion. this place.. your home? it's beautiful. it suits every word he's said.."

[whisperial]

@murderdeals || a meme continuation || from here.

leaves and dirt between her toes. a soft, plush pathway that cuts through familiar woods she has called her own for many years. fingertips dance against thick bark as she passes by one tree after another. green eyes gaze towards the fields just past the forest line where a farm's been haunting this place for years now. there's peace here. in the quiet early morning with the sun dotting through a canopy of plush leaves overhead. streaks of white yellow sunshine cut through the mists. it's beautiful. harmonic. perfect the way it is. untouched by time. tended to with care.

she's come and gone as she pleases. drifting through this landscape on her way to this or that place she calls home. whether it be a small cottage miles from here. or somewhere else in another part of these vast woods completely. or a little home in salem, massachusetts that houses her family and those like her. but these woods? she prefers them. where she can come and go undetected. unbothered.

until today.

she's watching a doe tend to her foal inside the protection of a blackberry bush so big that it's formed a home when she hears footsteps approach. her first idea is to dash away. quickly. but that would only disturb the deer. birdie's hands wring into the fabric of a well-crafted but weather worn patchwork skirt. she turns, lifting her finger and pressing it against her lips to gesture for the man to be quiet. he ignores her and sends both mother and child running into the woods. a scowl mars her face when she turns her attention back to him.

she's seen him before. rather the form of him. past the trees. never once approaching but watching. til he was out of earshot. then she'd disappear. "your property," she asks--her voice thick with an accent out of place. one born from an ocean away in the moors this place reminds her so much of. "ah. yes. yes. i am quite happily on my way home. thank you. but this patch of woods? i'm very fond of. you say they belong to you?" a smile. like she damn near sympathizes with him. "i suppose i would be protective if they were mine, too. pity. you're certain we can't share? my woods and your woods."

[bloodsalted]

#Dean: brb to smack u #Cain: u sure son? -- @murderdeals tags need to be on my blog. sorry. not sorry. ROFLLL!!

[qapsiel]

BASICS

Full name: Castiel

Nicknames/aliases: Cas, Cassie (derogatory), Clarence, Feathers, Emmanuel, Steve

Height: approximately the size of the Chrysler Building (319 m, 1,046 feet)

Age: as old as the universe

Number of eyes: 393.5

Spoken languages: every language known to mankind, Enochian

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS (vessel)

Hair colour: Brunette

Eye colour: blue

Skin tone: white

Body type: average

Dominant hand: Right

Posture: 11 out of 10, appears overly stiff sometimes, ramrod straight back, hands on his thighs when he's sitting

Scars: on the back of his left thigh (about 2 inches / 5 cm in length), two pinhead-sized round scars next to his right nipple and close to his left elbow, on the bottom of his right foot (about 1 inch / 2.5 cm)

Tattoos: one on his lower left abdomen (Enochian sigils)

Most noticeable features: his stiff posture and the tendency to stare without blinking, very blue eyes

CHILDHOOD

Place of birth: the galaxy known as JADES-GS-z14-0 to humanity

Siblings: the angels and archangels of heaven (no biological relation)

Parents: God (father), Amara (aunt), no mother

ADULT LIFE

Occupation: angel

Current residence(s): No permanent residence, though he often resides in Lawrence, Kansas

Close friends: Sam & Dean Winchester, Cain (verse dependent), Balthazar, Hannah

Relationship status: Single

Criminal record: Has never been arrested

Vices: anything bee-related

SEX & ROMANCE

Sexual orientation: pansexual

Preferred sexual role: Top

Libido: fluctuating; sometimes, he wants sex five times a day, and then he forgets about it for an entire week

Turn-ons: eyes, letting him watch, stripteases

Turn-offs: blindfolding (on him), bondage (on him), eye injuries or malformations

Love language: acts of service

Relationship tendencies: inexperienced; tends to copy what he sees in movies or reads in books or witnesses on the streets, thus it can be very cliché; has no concept of privacy (e.g., might tell his partner he wishes to have intercourse in front of friends/family/strangers); likes to be close to his partner but usually doesn't know how to ask for it

MISCELLANEOUS

Hobbies to pass time: bee-keeping, reading, 'people-watching' (aka sitting somewhere and staring), later gardening

Mental illnesses: autism (undiagnosed)

Self-confidence level: low

tagged by: @downs1detagging: @murderdeals + @bloodsalted + @sacrisaint + @sarishim + @eyeless-smiles + @theirmadness (Samantha + Carol) + @snnynatural + @venatcres (Bobby!) + @supegod + @nightmdic + @mostunwantedfbi + @aintashes

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here.

dean throws another rock into the lake and pulls his feet up so that his knees bend. free arm wraps around his shins as he watches the stone skip a few beats across the water. ploop , ploop, ploop! splash! then disappear leaving only circular ripples stemming out in it's wake. all around the farm, life continues. animals. plants. trees. they're surrounded with it. dean breathes freely here. the air is clean. pure. he knows he can't stay long. won't let himself stay long. life's too easy here. the temptation for something SIMPLE too great. he knows he can't have simple.

" i did. pride, though? i'm not good at pride. maybe at one point," his shoulders hitch. he thinks he used to be good at lying to himself about pride. ego. least when he was himself. easy way to cover up all the times he doubted himself the WORST. but pride? in himself? shallow and fleeting at best. maybe a handful of moments. but most of them include someone else there with him. his features twist into a look of confusion. he's wracking his brain trying to find an honest answer to thoughts he's rustling through. "what i want in my head versus what's in there, though? that's always been it's own FIGHT."

[bloodsalted]

Sans warning, Cain hands Dean a leather jacket. It's visibly new, and Gabriel smuggled it into his house in spite of his unwillingness to keep it. " Someone gave this one to me, among other things ", he finally says, vaguely pointing at the piece. " But I want you to have it. "

@murderdeals || oh my goodness thanks pops! || accepting always!

"you sure?" he asks as he holds the jacket carefully in both hands. it's heavy. expensive. in great shape. unlike the one that he's own year after year. though no one really knows why. no one's asked. he's never offered. figures it's just part of his signature look. "this is," a brow arches up and he blows out a breath--an appreciative, damn near close to exasperated by sheer happy smile brightens up his features. makes green eyes brighten with gratitude. "really nice.. i mean. thanks! a lot.. other one's got a lotta wear and tear on it. could use a break.."

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here!

dean's hurting. not as bad as the current company he's going to check on. but he's stiff and sore and the headache he's got is a constant reminder of the way the back of his skull connected with the ground in a not so friendly way. doesn't put him in the greatest of moods but he's sucking it up. dealing with it. and putting on his best face (slightly less brooding) when he twists the doorknob of cain's room and steps in. to see him stubbornly tossing his blankets off and making like he's about to vamoose. that's gonna get them BOTH in trouble.

honestly? dean doesn't feel like dealing with the fallout.

arms cross and he stands between the demon and the door. sure? he can get out of bed. are they walking out of here together, though? that's up in the air. don't make me fight you just to get you back in bed. that's gonna suck for us both. "give it a night? just one. please?" one hand lifts, palm out and fingers open as he tries to sway the other to listen to his bargain. "one night of rest should get you and me back into enough shape that neither one of us--MAINLY ME--gets shit for either one of us leaving." that same hand pushes through the hair at the top of his head and cups the back of it, rubbing frustratedly.

"i'll cook dinner. grab us a bitchin' dessert. one night. i'll even keep you company. for what that's worth. long as you don't go all flipping out on me. cause i'm gonna be real with you, man. i'm too god damn tired for it. cas is gonna be PISSED if you just disappear." ah. bargaining chip enters the room!

[bloodsalted]

cain: you have the blade, still?

dean: uhhh. sorta.

@murderdeals

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || prompts for playful affection || accepting!

[ hoist ] sender hoists receiver onto their shoulder and carries them around out of the bar. Cain decided that's enough drinks smfbdnxb

long leg dangles off the rung of his barstool. the metal long since useless in keeping his booted foot in place. the other? it's staying. bonus points for one heel keeping its self control! dean's managed to talk his way into what was left inside the bottle of middle shelf whiskey being left on the bar for him to polish off. a few shots. his beer to chase them down with.

gotta love small towns. they got bendable liquor control laws and no one really gives a shit to pay attention. it'll get him enough to stumble / crawl his way back to bed and with any luck black out before he starts thinking too hard.

what he doesn't expect next is a figure approaching right out of the what feels like the blue. he thought cain'd made his way back to wherever he came from the night prior. guess not! cause here he was. gray hair wild in front of his face as he--holy shit, he didn't!

"what the f--!" gravity shits as dean's entire frame is lifted right up out of his chair and slung over a broad shoulder. "hey!!! you son of--put me!" the fight he puts up is minimal at best. there's a puff of laughter from a round-bellied, dirty as hell farmer that watches them retreating out of the dive. dean flips him off and they get a resounding FUCK YOU as the door closes. he doesn't even get to shout anything back! cause nope!

the outside air hits him like a cold fly swatter to the cheek. it stings. "wasn't hurting nobody," he grumbles--limp rag style as the sidewalk leads them away. "thought you lef..t."

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || send me "Good boy/girl" for my muse's reaction || accepting!

" Good boy " from Cain, the grandfatherly approval way

they're standing outside the old ranch house with it's barn in the back and rather large shed to the side. there's enough room for a garden between it and the house itself. now? it's a weed farm and that's about it. in the distances, there's woods and from what he was told? a lake somewhere that the former owner made by stopping a natural spring that flows into the area. the whole place has certainly seen some better days. looks like it could use a lot of work to bring it back to where it once was. decades upon decades ago. but there's charm to it. potential. and most of all it's safe. tucked away out of sight from the main road. takes a little bit of a drive down a dirt path to get there. gotta swing open a rusty old gate and keep on going.

but?

it's theirs. something the family who owned it was all too happy to get rid of when dean paid cash. he's not gonna say where he got it from. or how long he'd been saving it. or how much it was. was pennies on the dollar they let it go for. leaves him with a little more than the usual six bucks to his name and a plethora of unmentionable credit cards to put behind their elbow grease. yeah, he got what he could afford. pretty damn awesome though. in his book. and it'll give them something to work on. to build. together. sam helped him settle on the place. sam truly helped in more ways than one. and dean couldn't be any more grateful. because..

green eyes glance at cain's profile and dean sees he's smiling. when the other meets his gaze? dean's smiling too. then his chin tucks towards his collar and he looks ahead again. "it's time to get him out of that bunker for good. maybe take a little less jobs, too." he brushes the back of his hand against the tip of his nose. then stuffs it back in his pocket. "we stay there less and less but it's back to motel rooms and anywhere we can be other than there. gives him nightmares. anxiety. me, too. too much bad's happened there and i don't want him living in anything that hurts. this is ours but sometime soon? it'll be everyone else's who needs it.."

'good boy...' cain's voice holds a heavy amount of pride in it as they stare ahead at the place. he brought him here before he mentioned to cas what was going on. wanted him to see it. to approve. those words? tell him he was right. he made the decision. and it stuck and it was good and this is going to be the best thing that's ever happened for them. aside from him getting cas back.

[bloodsalted]

an overdramatic eye roll leads into him taking the exit. in spite of cain's objections about ice cream. preferring coffee instead. and him jumping on the bandwagon of lecturing dean about his diet? dean's going to have a damn good time because a blizzard is in his future even if cain decides he's way too good for his own little slice of ice cream'd heaven. "you could stand to let yourself have a treat now and then. they have ones with fruit in them. for the blander folks. the ones who can't venture into truly enjoying themselves for whatever reason," dean gives him a playful side-eye that means nothing but joking insinuation and, well, honesty. cause.. proof be found in the coffee order.

"hold on. have you had ice cream at all? by that sour puss look on your mug? i'm saying no." dean follows the signs pointing towards a rather large catch all for travelers needs. gas across the street. several fast food restaurants. a motel. a bar/strip club. and an adult book store. you know? the truck driver and late night essentials. dean PASSES the bar. doesn't even suggest it. see? he has evolved. that and he knows cain will probably have him stop the car just to beat his ass a little bit and you know what? he's not looking to have that grandgrandgrandgrandgrandpa showdown. not when they're having so much fun. or at least he is. "need me to make up some fresh stuff one night? i promise it's much more healthy than this stuff. doesn't come out of a machine and is a labor of love made by these two hands." a solid nod. "might like it.."

DEAN TRULY IS CALLING THE CHALLENGE. Seems like what harmony they've managed to establish makes him extra bold, considering the fact he keeps poking at Cain's age. In a way you would do with someone visibly nearing death. And then— an invitation to a place which primarily serves fresh poison. Artificial, tooth-rotting, unhealthy. Talk about a fit occasion to let Dean's wit backfire. There's a brief glance at the gigantic sign impossible to miss.

" Seeing as your diet is about to take you yet another step closer to the chance of suffering a heart attack when I kick your rear, later... ", he trails off, brows and shoulders heaving in languid motion. Fake indifference. " This might indeed become the best day I've ever had. " It's all teasing, of course. Soon to be followed by a belated answer to Dean's prior question. " Coffee will do for me. "

[bloodsalted]

dean doesn't take offense to cain continuing his task as he pours out his heart. honestly? he prefers it that way. makes it easier to talk when he isn't held under someone's stare. being locked into someone's gaze as he attempts to put words to something he's not been able to put words to ever? to the point where this is the first time he's breathed these words into reality? yeah. that'd just make words harder to wrap his tongue around. make them make sense. because what he's feeling is so overwhelming. so spinning towards the point where he can't shut up. that cain's distraction's probably the only way dean would keep going.

"i know it doesn't..," he murmurs over the rim of his drink. jerking his gaze down to what's left in the bottle. not much. already. dean swallows again and swings his attention back to cain now that his attention has zero'd in on dean. there's that stare. dean feels heard. he always feels heard when he comes to this particular person and seeks his company. however. he, also, knows that the weight of those eyes meeting his own and what that contact .. so pointed .. so waiting serves to prove a point. why is he still here?

"i.. don't know." that's when it hits him. this sudden burst of needing to get to cas. right now. before he stuffs this away. before he compartmentalizes it down. before he builds up some sorta dam in his throat and chokes on the words that flowed so freely before. the bottle's sat down. he gives cain a clasp on his shoulder as he moves past him towards the porch where he tossed his keys on a chair. they jingle before being clamped into his palm and hurried steps take him back to the ground.

"thank you, cain." brow high, he meets the other's gaze. "i mean it. thank you.. i---i gotta go.." he needs to get back to cas. NOW.

AS THOUGH HE WEREN'T LISTENING, CAIN PROCEEDS TO CHOP THE WOOD. Splintering slices fall as do the words from Dean's mouth, just not as fast. It's almost explosive, the way it pours all out of the hunter and nervousness makes itself more and more visible; caught whenever Cain bothers to shoot him a glance in between. He says nothing. Knows very well that it is the good things which can scare one the most— because they can be taken away. Still, in lieu of empathy softening his mien does unspoken reproach harden his eyes upon the final wood slices dropping into grass. He stands straight again, the axe lowered.

" Fate doesn't care whether you confessed to him. If it means to separate you, it will. One way or another. " Can they even talk about fate anymore, given how often Dean proved himself capable of defying the same? At least he sees clear now. That's what Cain meant to tickle out from the start, although he hasn't been particularly gentle about it. And neither will he be overly sensible now. He lets the axe sink into the grass beside him and slowly shrinks the distance between himself and Dean.

" Now that you know what to do... ", he pauses, halts in front of the hunter and pins him under an expectant stare. " Why are you still here? " Should have relieved Castiel of his obliviousness yesterday.

[bloodsalted]

you have me in your team now..

dean's eyes meet cain's and his expression damn near mirrors the others. "got me on yours, too. ya know that...right? for whatever it's worth. you're family.." bottle tipped in cain's direction--dean finishes off his beer and brushes his hands together once the bottle's sat to the side. he'll pick it up on the way in later. for now? he reclines back against his palms that prop him upwards. arms out behind himself. heel meets the front of a shin, feet crossed. one on top of the other. lips press upwards. if a mouth could shrug? that'd be it. a thoughtful little smirk.

"you don't owe me anything. that's not how you and i are gonna work," head shakes back and forth, "nah. we're more than who owes who what..you and me."

dean means it. his entire tone backs it up. the way he stares out over the water for a beat or two before meeting cain's eyes again and tucking his chin towards his collar adds to the show of conviction that the normally animated winchester exudes. he watches him go til he can't see him anymore. then turns his attention back out to the setting sun and the colors it splashes across the sky. this is a soothing place. something close to how he could imagine him and cas living sometime--speaking of.

the question pulls his attention away from dreaming about colorful skies, rippling water and the future cain's got him thinking about in more ways than one. dean smiles. one hand swings out of view and reappears shoving through the hair at the top of his head. "kinda spoke a lot about him included in that life you asked me about, huh?" yeah, he did. he knows it. drawing in a breath--the hunter grunts as he pushes himself up to stand and turns to face cain as he approaches him. "profound bond. that's what he likes to call it. to be honest?" his mind races to connect words to what he's thinking. feeling. "i don't think there's a day that goes by where i don't want him in it.. guess he's right. pretty profound, eh?" he searches cain's eyes--not struggling with what he feels cause he knows what that is. more--like he doesn't want to breathe a breath of something more and lose it.

from the man who will dig through any string of words other than the ones he's about to say to say such a simple fucking thing that's anything but SIMPLE in dean's book because it means so, so damn much? the next words that leave dean winchester's lips mean the world. a hell of a lot more than any he could possibly smoosh together. "i love him. every piece of what i got left in me?" shoulders hitch. "he's got.. and i know i got his. i'm not blind. or deaf. or dumb. guess that's what's going on."

FROM AN ALMOST-BET ON WHO WILL STOP FIRST, ONE STEP BACK TO A COMPROMISE. Escaping one's purpose is next to impossible and Cain understands more than well why Dean can't imagine leaving it all behind. Still, room for something good should be made. The risk for loss always a shadow behind one's step; no wonder Dean is afraid of letting the good in. " That's neither stupid nor childish. It's human ", Cain counters flatly, a statement of fact. He himself contributed long ago to making the hunter feel small and weak, surely left one scar or two. With reason back in his mind once and for all, it'd be time to remedy some of it.

Because if there's one thing he truly meant, one thing unchanged from when drowned in madness? Then it is that he cares about Dean.

" And don't forget, you have me in your team now. " Cue a side glance in tandem with a simper, all the while he puts his empty bottle aside. " I'm going to help keep the trouble away from you ", and his mien sobers again. " I owe you that much. " After nearly killing him, anyway. No matter how far in the past that lies, no matter if it was that same hunter who set him back on that path; if not he, it might have been Abaddon herself who'd have done so. And god knows this would have ended far, far worse.

Finally succumbing to the restlessness tingling in his limbs, Cain pushes himself up to stand again. Returning to the wood he's begun to chop before, pulls the axe out of the stump.

" If you allow me the question, what exactly is this between you and Castiel? " A chunk of wood placed, he swings the axe with precision to split it. " It was obvious from the beginning that you two have a special connection of some kind. But I haven't seen an angel get that protective of any man before. " Back when they met at his burial site, he remembers vividly how Castiel's entire expression soured at so much as a whiff for a threat toward Dean. He even summoned an angel blade, knowing very well it'll fail to finish Cain. And now, these days? This boy seems to never have left the angel's mind.

The next piece gets positioned.

[bloodsalted]

putting his confession out into the world. even if it is only to cain's ears? turns dean antsy. enough that he looks nervous. with a bite to his bottom lip and the way his hand cups the back of his neck, stays there rubbing lightly. a self-soothing motion of fingers that is unending, steady. feathery light right across his skin near his hairline. a breath is blown out, he nods to cain's repeating his truth.

"posing a challenge is a good way of putting it. to be honest? i haven't. because i'm fucking terrified that if i do? i'm going to lose him. that this shit we do? the universe or whatever sort of screwed up path we keep taking is going to grab on and throw something to the god damn wolves. and that's something i'm not sure i can take. i almost lost him. for good and i don't know..." shaking his head, he flashes a smile that looks borderline panicky.

anxiety.

it's a bitch and it's one that likes to beat him around sometimes. so says the way his throat clenches around his swallow, too. "i want us to be something. i should've said it back. i should've done a lot of things different. expecting him to pick up on it isn't fair. not to him. i know it isn't. cas hasn't ever been wired in a way that he would." guilt. he feels guilty for a lot of things in regards to the angel. what he didn't say in return? that's on the top, though. oh. another beer is required for the conversation. so, he walks to the small cooler and pulls out to. using the silver ring on his hand to pop both caps off and toss them back into the cooler for later disposal. "i just didn't know what to do. or what to say. everything was a blur and..fuck..i was terrified. now?"

he turns his beer upwards taking a few long pulls off it. "the chance is here..guess i just gotta find the balls to take it. sorry. my head got away from me there.. i just..," a darting grin born out of embarrassment and frustration comes and goes, "..i don't talk like this with anyone. guess it was in my chest for too damn long."

WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT? If anyone had told Cain years ago that he'd one day play in the league of the good guys, that the Winchester he aimed to murder will consider him someone worth trusting... he'd have laughed in their face. Dean said those words but received no reaction. Apart from a fleeting, sympathetic glance; it's enough to let him know the sentiment appreciated. One of the perks that comes with sharing such deep connection, right? Sometimes words are unnecessary.

What's on the forefront of Cain's mind, however, revolves around Dean and Castiel. The latter had told him that the hunter shrouded himself in silence in regards to his love confession— believes that his feelings are one-sided. Yes, he asked Cain not to meddle. And he won't, not exactly, at least mention nothing of what Castiel said. He has a personal interest in the matter, too. So this is why he wants Dean to disclose his side of the story.

The axe rushes into another piece of wood while Cain catches the hunter's approach out of the corner of an eye. Profound bond. That's... so vague.

" You love him ", he repeats, a vestige of surprise swinging along. Then tosses the chopped halves aside onto the mounting pile. " I mean, we know voicing such matters poses a challenge all on its own. " Canting his head to one side, he regards Dean with an expectant upturn of one brow. " So, did you ever tell him? " That's when his gaze drifts away for a beat, nose crinkled in what resembles skepticism. " Forgive my nosiness, but... He's not exactly an expert with social cues, in case you opted for hints. "