( After making his rounds, Dean takes a seat back behind Castiel. There's something about him there in his sunglasses, feeling that bad halfway through the next day after he had Claire time, that makes Dean smile. The only way he can describe how he feels is, love. He loves that hungover son of a Chuck. And, he's not wasted off his ass himself, so he's not running away from it. Nor is he moving in for another kiss. Naming that feeling? It's pretty powerful.
He smiles behind him, hands squeezing his shoulders as he leans in encouragingly. )
Some moderate. Others hydrate.
( He has a brief thought about how much is left. Was it moonshine or wine? That wine took a week to ferment. But, his amusement wins out. )
Nice look. Very eighties.
( There is a part of him that wonders if he caused this. If his inability to communicate drove Cas to drink with Claire. And drink enough to need sunglasses. Is this his fault? He needs time. How much time is enough. What would he want to say? He doesn't know the answer to any questions, right now. Personal or town-related. He is doing pretty great at failing. )
no subject
He smiles behind him, hands squeezing his shoulders as he leans in encouragingly. )
Some moderate. Others hydrate.
( He has a brief thought about how much is left. Was it moonshine or wine? That wine took a week to ferment. But, his amusement wins out. )
Nice look. Very eighties.
( There is a part of him that wonders if he caused this. If his inability to communicate drove Cas to drink with Claire. And drink enough to need sunglasses. Is this his fault? He needs time. How much time is enough. What would he want to say? He doesn't know the answer to any questions, right now. Personal or town-related. He is doing pretty great at failing. )