On the mun's designs for character development

[decadency]

Even that ninth grade history text book you stole from your Catholic high school told you that the crusades ended badly.

I'm not doing it. Dean is unable.

So, uh. I rebel.

Comments

[whatrhymeswith]

[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.

[decadency]

[ 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. ]

[whatrhymeswith]

[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.

[decadency]

[ 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. ]