dear_mun | On the mun's designs for character development

[ You stopped hunting. You have a normal life. With him, and then they worked it out. No Apocalypse. And fruit loops. It's not anything he's ever thought about but he wants it. He wants it and his breath catches tight in his lungs around a shaky, gasping laugh. His head bows forward, leaning into the hand on your chest. ]

I am not—[ Breathe, man. Shit. No laughing. ]—unable.

[ He's not. He does love you. He's capable of it. ]

[Oh hey. You're leaning against him. He'll slide his hand from your shoulder around to your back to rub against the fabric of your shirt and the ridges of your spine underneath. You're not unable. Yeah.]

I know.

[He does know that. It's still surprising to him every time he's reminded of it, but he does know it.]

[ Oh you're touching him. It's comforting. He doesn't want to need comfort from you—life has needed too much from you already—but it's nice. It's too nice to pull away from. This body wants comfort, leaning further into you, close enough for his forehead to brush against the shelf of your shoulder. Not resting there. Just touching. He's terrible at resisting temptation.

This is nice, Dean. You were unable. But you're not anymore. You won't be always. That's enough. He lets out a soft huff, a sigh, exhaustion and relief. Doesn't pull away. ]

Do you, uh, have other phone pictures?

[ Of him. Of your life. Whatever. ]

[It's nice. Well, kind of. It's nice that you think it's nice. He hates to see you like this, Cas, hates it, and it's nice to be able to give some comfort. Even if it's just minimal comfort. Even if he knows it won't last, since you will go back to your Dean, who will not give you comfort. And then you'll find comfort in orgies and drugs, and he really doesn't want to think about all of this right now. He'll just continue to run his hand over your back. And then glance down when you ask your question.]

Uh. [Reaching down with his free hand to pull out the phone again.] A few. Haven't had this phone for very long. [But there are a handful of pictures, of the house in Milwaukee, of Cas, of Cas' bike, of Bobby in the driveway with the bike and the Impala behind him. A couple of blurry pictures of nothing much at all when Dean figured out how to use the camera, and one picture of Dean on the living room couch that Cas took. Here. Phone pictures. He'll explain if you want him to, but if you seem happy to just look, he won't comment much.]

[ He leans into you as long as he's able—and even when he's not, he stands close to you regardless, still very much in your personal space—and holds the phone with his free hand. It takes him a few moments to figure out how to flip through the pictures, but eventually prodding the screen results in functionality. The one of Bobby surprises him, clenches a quick knot of something like grief or regret in his throat. But the rest remain merely interesting, like storybook pictures, real and unreal at the same time.

He stares at the one of Dean for a long time. You look relaxed in it. Distantly annoyed, perhaps, at the photo being taken but there's affection there as well. An ease he stopped associating with you. Has maybe never seen before. It's good, Dean. You look something close to at peace. ]

You, uh—[ Clearing his throat. ]—you chose this? [ He pulls back away enough to cut his eyes up towards you, chin still tucked. ] It's not because I—? [ Swallows. He can't get out the rest of the question. Just widens his eyes. You didn't do this for him, right? This life. This ease. You chose it for yourself. Because it's right for you, not because it's something he needed. He doesn't want to need anything from you. You shouldn't sacrifice any more, especially not for him. ]

[He doesn't mind having you in his personal space. Except for the part where it feels a little bit like something he should have asked his Cas' permission for, but he has the feeling that his Cas would not have a problem with him doing this.]

[The photos are familiar to him, so he's watching your reaction to them, catches your brief hesitation at the picture of Bobby, and frowns a little as you stare at the picture of him for a long time. Glances down as you pull back, but then catches your eyes at your question. It's not because you— ? Because you asked for it?]

I was living in Milwaukee before you came back. Quit hunting, sold all of my guns. It's how we bought the house. [Grin. He turned his arsenal into a house. He likes the house better. Shrugs a little.] My choice. Just ended up working out well for how things worked out.

[ Your choice. Good. He believes no one could convince you to do something you didn't see the need to do yourself. But it's good to know it was mutual, if anything. He nods once, and takes a step back. Holds your phone back out to you. ]

Okay.

[ It's good. He's good. It's possible, you and him, somewhere, somehow. When you're willing and able. He meets your eyes, tilting his head to the side. ]

You know. [ That he loves you. You find it acceptable. ]

[He takes the phone and watches you. You look like you're wanting to say something else. He meets your eyes, and then draws his eyebrows together a little when you speak. He knows. He knows what? Considering how the conversation went, and judging by the expression on your face, he's fairly sure he knows what you mean, but there's still a note of doubt to his tone when he speaks.]

I know that you care about me. [Is that what you meant? That's what you meant, isn't it. But he didn't put it the right way, did he. He shifts his feet and twitches up his eyebrows.] Love me. [A shrug, and a slightly awkward smile.] Even if it took us a while to work out the technical details.

[ Yes, he cares about you. But that's not—it. It feels incomplete if they just leave it at that. So yes. Yes, he loves you. He nods, once, lips parted, watching you almost warily.

That okay, Dean? You going to freak out on him? For some reason this fact seems to be surprisingly damaging, either to you or to him, and so they've never successfully had a conversation about it.

But you're not freaking out. You're smiling, a little. So he swallows. Tries to smile back a little; relax. ]

You're better at details. [ Than he is. ] Uh, mostly. [ So that wasn't like a compliment or anything. Your plans almost always suck. ]

On the mun's designs for character development

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