( the articles in hustler totally count. don't you judge him for his choice of reading material. not all of us can be potential nobel laureates. or. whatever.
he leaves the door leading into the kitchen open for castiel to follow him and, making a beeline for the sink and reaching beneath it to retrieve the lava soap he keeps underneath it – mostly because, if he doesn't wash his hands the second he comes in from the garage, he ends up leaving grimy fingerprints on everything he touches and sam bitches at him for having to clean up his messes – he makes an elaborate effort to scrub the grease and grit from his hands, forearms, almost up past his elbows until the surface of his skin is almost rubbed raw from it. he's still going to have to take a shower, but that can come later, once he's not all that intent on keeping the company of the second nerd to come into his life without so much as a preamble.
( he maintains that his little brother hadn't always been as much of a nerd as he is now, because he swears they used to roll around in the dirt together, or maybe he'd just blocked out all the times when sam would abandon him to study some organic thing while dean himself was busy making mud pies. )
he tries not to think about how … intrigued he finds himself by the other's presence. that he's kind of hoping sam stays out longer rather than coming back as quickly as possible just to get a better feel for castiel himself. on one hand, he's pretty sure he's going to starve to death if he doesn't get some food in him soon – but on the other, his little brother's friend in nerdery is proving to be far more entertaining than he thought the guy would be, and if pressed, couldn't deny that he's not that bad to look at.
not that he's thinking that. right this moment. ahem.
he grabs a dish towel from its place next to the sink, dries his hands and turns to pull open the refrigerator door, grabs a beer and promptly twists off the cap. )
So. ( sip. ) Anything new with the universe lately? ( dean … )
no subject
he leaves the door leading into the kitchen open for castiel to follow him and, making a beeline for the sink and reaching beneath it to retrieve the lava soap he keeps underneath it – mostly because, if he doesn't wash his hands the second he comes in from the garage, he ends up leaving grimy fingerprints on everything he touches and sam bitches at him for having to clean up his messes – he makes an elaborate effort to scrub the grease and grit from his hands, forearms, almost up past his elbows until the surface of his skin is almost rubbed raw from it. he's still going to have to take a shower, but that can come later, once he's not all that intent on keeping the company of the second nerd to come into his life without so much as a preamble.
( he maintains that his little brother hadn't always been as much of a nerd as he is now, because he swears they used to roll around in the dirt together, or maybe he'd just blocked out all the times when sam would abandon him to study some organic thing while dean himself was busy making mud pies. )
he tries not to think about how … intrigued he finds himself by the other's presence. that he's kind of hoping sam stays out longer rather than coming back as quickly as possible just to get a better feel for castiel himself. on one hand, he's pretty sure he's going to starve to death if he doesn't get some food in him soon – but on the other, his little brother's friend in nerdery is proving to be far more entertaining than he thought the guy would be, and if pressed, couldn't deny that he's not that bad to look at.
not that he's thinking that. right this moment. ahem.
he grabs a dish towel from its place next to the sink, dries his hands and turns to pull open the refrigerator door, grabs a beer and promptly twists off the cap. )
So. ( sip. ) Anything new with the universe lately? ( dean … )