( chances are, we won't be in the line of fire. there have to have been better ways to say that than to come right out with it, but since the moment he'd met him, dean hasn't known castiel to put things in a sugar coating. because that's not the kind of person he is, and that's one thing he really likes about him, because beating around the bush or treading lightly just so you don't end up hurting feelings isn't the way dean himself rolls. so. the blatant bottom line of it amuses him, even if he's a little disappointed at the projection.
more likely, the human race will be taken under by something far less interesting, far more redundant and mundane like global warming or another plague or radiation poisoning. the idea of being blown into not even the base molecules that make up his dna is a hell of a lot more preferable to anything boring, and if there's one thought castiel has gotten right so far – it's that he would vastly prefer burning out fast and bright and sharp than wither away to nothing. live fast, love hard, die young … yeah, that's dean winchester in a nutshell. no damned doubt about it.
he keeps right on grinning as the other settles next to him, casting a sidelong glance just to reassure himself that giddy, almost childish sort of happiness in cas' expression is staying well intact, and he hums out an almost-melodic breath, about as close to a purr as he's ever managed, just by dint of being incomparably comfortable. at peace. enjoying himself.
he feels bad, for a small second, for momentarily being okay with the fact that sam's falling sick is the entire reason he'd been able to come out on this venture in the first place. sure, it sucks for the kid, but he'll get his in july – so, of course that means dean is free to enjoy himself to the fullest, right?
up to and including enjoying more than just the presence of a certain space cadet.
… right? ) Five billion years … hell of a lifetime. ( he sounds almost wistful, like it's unfathomable to live so long, but then again he has to remind himself that they're talking celestial bodies and not human ones. there's a hell of a difference there. )
Anybody ever tell you you're kind of adorable when you start babbling all that science junk? ( he's casting another sidelong glance in cas' direction, eyes hooded, a half-smirk painted across the line of his mouth. ) Like a damn kid at Christmas.
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more likely, the human race will be taken under by something far less interesting, far more redundant and mundane like global warming or another plague or radiation poisoning. the idea of being blown into not even the base molecules that make up his dna is a hell of a lot more preferable to anything boring, and if there's one thought castiel has gotten right so far – it's that he would vastly prefer burning out fast and bright and sharp than wither away to nothing. live fast, love hard, die young … yeah, that's dean winchester in a nutshell. no damned doubt about it.
he keeps right on grinning as the other settles next to him, casting a sidelong glance just to reassure himself that giddy, almost childish sort of happiness in cas' expression is staying well intact, and he hums out an almost-melodic breath, about as close to a purr as he's ever managed, just by dint of being incomparably comfortable. at peace. enjoying himself.
he feels bad, for a small second, for momentarily being okay with the fact that sam's falling sick is the entire reason he'd been able to come out on this venture in the first place. sure, it sucks for the kid, but he'll get his in july – so, of course that means dean is free to enjoy himself to the fullest, right?
up to and including enjoying more than just the presence of a certain space cadet.
… right? ) Five billion years … hell of a lifetime. ( he sounds almost wistful, like it's unfathomable to live so long, but then again he has to remind himself that they're talking celestial bodies and not human ones. there's a hell of a difference there. )
Anybody ever tell you you're kind of adorable when you start babbling all that science junk? ( he's casting another sidelong glance in cas' direction, eyes hooded, a half-smirk painted across the line of his mouth. ) Like a damn kid at Christmas.