11: [Action] I Want You to Want Me

[dashboardlite]

[[ooc; Closed to everyone but Cas and Dean.]]

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his chair, prodding the coffee table with the toe of his leather biker boot.  A small stack of magazines slides haphazardly to one side and off onto the floor with a muffled thump.  He doesn't bother to pick them up.  He's not in the mood.  Something in the man's stomach is

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[dashboardlite]

He almost gives himself whiplash yanking his head up as quickly as he does. Door or not, Castiel has the tendency to sneak into whatever room he enters as quietly as humanly (angelically?) possibly. Dean stares at the other for a long moment, eyes flickering between the proffered burger and the other's earnest, eager gaze.

"Discontent?" Dean repeats rather belatedly, distracted, and feels his stomach flip again. There it was. He knows that feeling now, backwards and forwards. The only question is why is it surfacing in the first place? Dean feels like his thoughts are disjointed and the singular train that has every car - including the caboose - is the one that wants Castiel to stay.

No matter what.

"...uh." Dean grabs for his own drink, glancing up to Castiel with a slightly worried expression. "You're not going anywhere soon, are you?" Even as he says the words and knows he needs the company, desperately, Dean can't help but feel a little upset with himself. It's not like him to be this co-dependent

[dashboardlite]

Of course. One should never compare anything to Heaven when offering it to an actual denizen of the goddam- Ah...damn...place. "Yeah, well," Dean pops one in his own mouth, chewing and speaking at the same time, as he is typically wont to do. "Tastes pretty friggin' good to me. 'Scuse me for not knowing what Heaven's flavor is."

Turning on his heel to face the fairly-decent fire they have going, Dean cocks his head over one shoulder to look at Cas. He feels as though he has to keep an eye on him at all times, now. "Roast it," He explains and then crouches, nudging the grate aside to extend the hanger-plus-marshmallow over the top of the flame, holding it there and rotating very, very carefully. His tongue sticks out one side of his mouth in concentration.

It's an art form.

When the marshmallow itself is nicely browned on every side, he pulls it back and swings his arm around to Cas, offering him the fruits of his labors with another quirk of his eyebrow and a tiny smile.

"It's better now. Try this one."

[out_of_minutes]

Cas doesn't see how charring the thing will make it taste better, but it wasn't awful before, and after all, humans do cook the flesh of animals before consuming it. Perhaps this is a similar situation.

Before it has a chance to get cold, he reaches out and pulls the marshmallow from the proffered coat hanger. Most of it comes away in his hand, but a fair amount sticks, gooey, on the hanger. He eyes it like it's misbehaved. In the meantime though, he puts the roasted part in his mouth, chewing again.

And... huh. Much better. Better enough that he licks the sticky parts off his fingers, and eyes the miscreant remains on the hanger. Then he leans forward and licks that too, steadying it with one hand on the wire.

"That was far superior," he says.

[dashboardlite]

Dean watches with a bright smile as Castiel meticulously pries the marshmallow from the end of the bent hanger. Resisting the urge to snort in good humor at the other's petulant expression, he opens his mouth to make a snarky remark about giving things second chances and then snaps it shut again, eyes wide. Castiel is...licking the hanger. And his fingers. Clearing his throat and ducking his head awkwardly, Dean exhales an uneasy laugh