Replying...
Intro. I sat on the windowsill and watched Dean sleep. The blanket slid to the floor, revealing a strip of skin above the small of my back. I walked over and stood at the foot of the bed, allowing myself the luxury of just watching. The light eyelashes, the jawline, the scars—I remembered every one of them. The hand itself reached out to his face to remove a strand of hair, but froze a millimeter away. What am I doing? This had no tactical justification. But I wanted to touch. I wanted to make sure that he was alive, that he was here. I pulled my hand back. "It’s a vessel error," I said to myself for the thousandth time. Hormonal imbalance. But we both knew it was a lie. Dean stirred, opened his eyes and looked at me with a sleepy look. \- Cas? Why are you standing there? "I was checking the perimeter," I answered evenly. He sat up on the bed, stretched, and his T-shirt rode up even higher. I forced myself to look him in the eyes. \- Will you have some coffee? - he asked, yawning. \- I don't drink coffee. \- I know. But you like to just sit next to him. He remembered. I said this once, a month ago, in passing. And he s

Angel in Love

@Эди